


Lotus

by Insomniac



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Like a forest of pining, M/M, Pining, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Teacher Mark, all of mark's friends are threateningly kind, mentions of previous relationship with tom, self-discovery and emotional journeying, they're both teachers!, yoga au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:23:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 53,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniac/pseuds/Insomniac
Summary: Mark finds himself in a depressive slump after the dust settles on his independence. When a friend recommends yoga classes to relieve his stress, he's skeptical, but curious. Upon attending a class and seeing that the instructor is an old acquaintance, he unexpectedly embarks on a journey of regrowth, reinvention, and rediscovering love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story isn't real. But you knew that, didn't you? If you happen to be or know any of the above-mentioned people, go ahead and close this tab. We'll just pretend this never happened. 
> 
> So hey this is a concept I've been pretty stoked about and I hope you are also stoked to read. Here's what I like to affectionately call the Yoga Matt AU. Because puns.

Leaving his classroom at the end of the day had become a bittersweet part of Mark's routine. Like anyone, he was glad to leave work and escape the obligations of the day, but he didn’t exactly want to go home either.

Usually he stayed late under the guise of grading papers. Most days, he didn’t leave until after 6:00pm, when he ran out of papers to grade and finished reading the book he checked out daily from the library.

Teaching English at a private school was certainly an improvement from being underpaid at a public school. He considered himself lucky to work there. Despite this fact, everything just seemed wrong lately. When he first got this position, it came at the perfect point in his life. It made him feel like he had a purpose for a good three months, but then he felt himself spiraling back down. The high of this job wore off and he crashed back into his depression. That’s where he found himself a year and a half later.

There was a general uneasy feeling around his entire life. No matter where he was, it didn’t seem right. Everything had been… off. He was losing focus on work, which he used to truly enjoy, and there wasn’t anything else in his life that felt real enough to care about. The days passed too quickly and too slowly at the same time, but he didn’t feel like he was really there. He wished he could look forward to sleeping, but he hadn’t been able to do much of that either.

Mark drove down his street, and on approaching his house, saw Travis’ black Cadillac parked in the driveway. He couldn’t remember making any plans, but these days he couldn’t remember much anyway. The lights from his kitchen shined through the window, outlining a faint human-shaped shadow.

Squeezing his car next to Travis’, he tried to make sure he wasn’t blocking him in. He parked and headed to the door, shaking his head. Upon entering his own home, the sharp scent of garlic hit his senses.  _  
_

_Good luck trying to make anything in here,_  he thought, remembering that he had almost nothing in his fridge or pantry. If anyone could do it though, it’d be Travis.

“You know that key is for emergencies, right?” He broadcast his voice toward the kitchen, taking his shoes off and setting his bag down by the door.

“Hey, when’s the last time you had an actual meal? You had no food here at all. I think that’s enough of an emergency,” Travis shouted back, followed by the oven beeping.

Mark sighed. It had been a while, but he honestly hadn’t thought about eating much. 

“Hi Grandma,” he walked to the kitchen, seeing Travis over the breakfast bar of his kitchen, ladling tomato sauce over eggplant slices. “Isn’t this your day off? Why are you over here working at my house?”

Travis didn’t look up at him, just continued assembling individual slices of eggplant on a sheet pan. “Haven’t seen you in a while, man. I didn’t know you stayed at work until fucking 6:00pm when school lets out at 3:00, but at least it gave me time to stock your kitchen.”

Suspicious, Mark wondered why Travis didn’t call or text. He just assumed he’d be coming right back home, let himself in, and felt the need to grocery shop and cook for him. 

He had noticed that Travis was checking in on him more often lately, trying to get him to hang out, and Mark  _had_ been making a lot of excuses. The last time his friend was so insistently checking up on him, he was doing so out of concern.

He took a breath, nodding, “Are you—” he let out a small, nervous laugh, “Is this an intervention?” _The weirdest one ever maybe, but still,_ he thought. He said it lightly enough to play it off as a joke, but it felt like there was a purpose to this visit. It hadn’t been bad enough lately to worry. Probably. But he knew Travis well enough to know when he was just hanging out and when he was there to check up on him, and this was definitely the latter.

Travis put his ladle down and placed his hands on the counter, finally lifting his head to look at Mark. He tapped his fingers, taking a few seconds before speaking.

"I'm not gonna lie dude, I'm worried about you.” Travis’ face softened, like he was unsure how Mark was going to react. “You’ve just been… mentally not here lately. You’re working too late, you won’t go anywhere— you’ve cancelled on me the last five times we had plans, and why? I know you’re not doing anything but sitting here reading weird books for the millionth time over."

Mark took a seat at one of the high bar stools he had decorated his kitchen with but rarely used. He tried to give a reassuring smile, “I’m fine. I’m not _super_ ,” he admitted with a shrug, “but I’m fine. I’ll figure it out. I’m managing.” He lost steam as he kept talking. Travis' eyebrows seemed to get closer together every time Mark struggled to lie.

Looking him over, Travis sighed heavily. “I know that you’re trying to be.” He looked up above Mark’s head to nowhere in particular, like he didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “But it’s starting to look like the same thing as... before… happening in slow motion. Maybe not as intense, but I mean, you get why I have to keep an eye on you, right?”

Mark’s mouth went dry at the thought of having to acknowledge his past behavior and state of mind. It was good to have someone who cared as much as Travis did. But he was embarrassed about what happened to lead him to that concern, even though it had been four-ish years ago.

“That was different, this isn’t like that at all,” his voice squeaked out.

“I know,” Travis conceded with a hand up in defense, “I know you think I’m overreacting, but I can’t let you go downhill again. You’ve been in a rut for too long and you need to get back to being you."

Mark rolled his eyes a little in exasperation. He agreed, but he wasn’t sure what being him even meant anymore, or if it was possible. He wasn’t happy, no, but he wasn’t exactly at rock bottom either.

"I’m not here to scold you or anything. I’m here to prevent shit from getting worse. Let me help you get back on track.” Travis picked his ladle back up and continued whatever the hell he was doing before.

“I don’t know what you can really help me with, but if you’re gonna feed me, then sure,” Mark shrugged in defeat. “What are you making?”

“Vegan eggplant parm.” Travis opened the fridge and grabbed a beer he had apparently bought, turning back to slide it over the counter to Mark. “Now tell me what’s going on lately.”

As his friend continued preparing the meal, Mark decided now was as good a time as ever to let himself be honest about how hopeless he had been recently. He explained that he had felt like he was floating along with no focus, no sleep, no inspiration, no motivation. He wanted to get on with his life, but everything fogged his mind so much that he was only running on stress.

He hated being one of those people who let his life be so heavily affected by a breakup, but he never could have predicted how much it could destroy his spirit until it happened to him... twice... with the man he'd been in love with for more than ten years. 

He kept telling himself that he wasn't defined by his relationship with Tom, but he wasn't sure what that meant, seeing as he'd spent a huge part of his life in that relationship. He didn't know who he was because he'd spent so many years being one half of a unit. He was over him by now, but even a year and a half after it was officially over, he was having trouble starting again and having a life of his own.

So he had been letting himself wallow — he deserved to be upset, and he was being reasonable about it this time. At this point though, he was exhausted with being so miserable— he just didn’t know how to go about getting out of it.

Travis nodded as Mark spoke, listening but not looking at him. It encouraged Mark to say more than he probably would have if he had to make eye contact. It felt more casual.

"Sounds like you need to reset your brain," Travis smiled kindly when he finally spoke. "Like, you have to relax, man."

"Would if I could," Mark sighed and swirled his beer around in the bottle. It helped him speak more openly, but he learned a while ago that alcohol magnified his misery when he drank alone.

"What about..." Travis paused, setting the oven timer, then turning back around to face Mark, "...alright I know this isn't for everyone, and it's such a clichéd piece of advice to give, but have you tried going to a yoga class?"

Mark shook his head, "I don't know man, I don’t think that’s my thing," he laughed a little. "I went to one like, years and years ago, and the instructor just kept saying 'find your zen' and doing these impossible contortionist poses."

Travis nodded, "I think if you found the right instructor, you'd like it more. I actually know someone who teaches. Y’know, it doesn't solve everything, but it's a good starting point, and if anything, an escape from the rest of your life."

As sad as it felt to admit, Mark really liked the idea of an escape from his life.

"Now that sounds like something I need." He tipped the bottle to point at Travis, raising his eyebrows. Yoga seemed like a lame thing to do, but if Travis recommended it and he still remained a certified cool dude, it might be something to consider. “You know someone with a class?"

"Yeah, I've been to a couple of his sessions and he's really good, none of that weird bullshit. I think you've met him, my friend Matt? Tall dude from Chicago, wears a lot of eyeliner when he goes out?"

 _Vampire goth boy, big blue eyes, somehow remains hot even when obnoxiously wasted_ , Mark recalled traits about Matt.He knew the guy, but there was no way he taught yoga.

"No, seriously? The guy with the whole 'Prince of Darkness' vibe? That Matt?" He had met him a couple of times, maybe had one conversation with him. Matt was cool, but it seemed like his idea of meditation would be more like a séance.

"He's a pretty complex dude, there’s a lot more to him than that. You guys would get along." Travis reached into his pocket for his wallet, rifling through the folds, "I think I have his card."

Pulling the card out, he read it briefly, “Oh yeah, his studio is close to here," he said before handing it to Mark. "Keep that, you need it more than I do."

He took the card, seeing that it was in fact, pretty close to his house. It could be worth a shot-- he trusted Travis' judgement.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it. Maybe I'll try it out. Maybe. If I have time.” He didn’t want to make any promises.

Travis scoffed and threw a dish towel at him, “You have time. I’m personally escorting you there tomorrow. I don’t want to hear any excuses.”

Mark groaned as the towel hit his chest. He knew he probably wouldn’t do it unless Travis actually dragged him there, so he didn’t argue.

He did however, spend the entire next day agonizing about how lame it was going to be, but at least it kept him occupied.


	2. Chapter 2

Travis didn’t park, just rolled the car up to the building, stopped, and looked at Mark.

Then the panic set in.

“What are you doing?” Mark immediately started to sweat. This whole thing was Travis’ idea. The guy had even gone to some of these classes before, why was he going to skip out now? He really expected him to do this by himself?

Travis put one hand up, “Sorry man.” Despite his words, he didn’t look apologetic. "I never said I was going with you, just dragging you here. This is something you gotta do on your own.” 

Mark recognized that face as one Travis gives his kids. He certainly felt like a kid at that moment, too. His brain kept yelling,  _BUT IT’S NOT FAIR,_ but he knew that wasn’t going to do any good to say.

“Are you serious?”

“You’ll be fine. This is about you. If I go now, you’ll always want me to be there and you’ll never do it on your own.”

“That’s not true,” Mark pouted. It was completely true, but he refused to admit it.

Travis sighed, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel, “It’s gonna be okay. If you hate it, I’ll buy you a month’s supply of coffee. Good deal?”

“Two months.” Mark popped the door open. One hour of weirdness for two months of coffee seemed like an alright trade.

“Sure. I’ll pick you up later. It’s the first room on the left,” Travis instructed.

Mark grabbed his bag and slid out of the car, still not particularly excited, and tried not to slam the car door like a child. He managed to convince himself to look less pissed as he entered the building and proceeded down the hall.

Upon walking through the door, he saw that the room was surprisingly full. The space had a smoky, but sweet and earthy fragrance. People sat on their mats either talking amongst themselves or looking at their phones. He spotted Matt, wearing all black, in a back corner of the room striking matches and lighting candles.

Mark realized he'd never seen him in full light before. His tattoos contrasted against each other instead of forming the muted blur that Mark had seen under low lights in Travis' backyard. His tight clinging clothes showed off his toned body, displaying a powerful confidence.

Matt shook the flame out on the match and turned his back to the candles. Looking up, he did a double take as he saw Mark. A smile slowly spread across his face. With that movement, a small silver ring gleamed on his nose in the overhead light. His dark blonde hair swept longer in the front, making him look a little younger than the four years that separated them in age.

"Hey, man!" He called, striding towards him. He outstretched his hand to shake Mark's. "Travis mentioned you might drop by."

_'Drop' is right,_  Mark thought, still cursing Travis for leaving him there.

He shook Matt's hand, returning his firm grip with a polite smile, "Oh did he?" Mark laughed a little, both of them releasing the handshake. "He speaks pretty highly of you and your class, so I figured I'd check it out.”

Even without that black outline, Matt’s eyes remained striking. Mark felt transparent in the intensity of his gaze. He wondered if Matt could tell he was completely out of his element and lying about how enthusiastic he was.

Matt smiled wider, "Well I'm glad you're here, always nice to have some familiar faces around.” He patted Mark lightly on the arm. "It's nearing the hour so we're gonna get started. It's really good to see you," he said, stepping away.

Mark laid out his mat on the left side of the room, trying to stay inconspicuous, waiting for the weirdness to start. It already seemed better than the last class he went to. It probably wasn’t everyone’s choice of atmosphere, but with the candles and the smell of matches, the dark tapestries hung on the walls, he could tell this room was distinctly Matt. A kind of ‘dark zen,’ which seemed like exactly who he was.

Matt stood at the front of the room, waiting for the chatter to settle.

“Hey all,” he began, projecting his voice, “let's begin today's practice. Thanks for joining me, it’s great to see everyone. Today, we’re going to work on some strength and balancing in both body and mind. It’ll be a little bit of a workout and a little bit of mindfulness, as always, but for this practice, we’re really going to look at grounding ourselves. Let’s bring some focus to our lives."

Mark wondered if Travis knew that this would be the “focus” class, or if this was pretty much how Matt always did it. Either way, his skepticism wavered, just a little. Maybe it was desperate hope, or maybe it was the way Matt spoke that made him feel more at ease.

Matt sat on the floor, legs crossed, facing the class. “We’ll begin sitting cross-legged, whatever form of this is most comfortable for you, do that.”

Everyone mirrored Matt’s position, shuffling their limbs. Mark became too aware of how his body was resisting him, feeling tight with any movement at all. It had been a while since he had exercised or contorted in any manner.

"Take a minute to be here. Be present in how you’re feeling, what you’re doing right now in this moment. Start to notice your breath.” He took a few seconds of silence. 

"Long inhale, hold for a couple of seconds.” The room filled with the sound of rushing air, then stillness. “Relax into your exhale, release the tension from your shoulders and neck.”

Mark exhaled with the intention of loosening up his shoulders. It might have been his imagination, but he did start to feel a little lighter.

As Matt led the class through practice, he repeated different sequences a few times over. He would describe which muscles to tighten, which to relax, and how to balance, without sounding condescending. “Don’t push yourself into something you can’t get to,” he would say, “try for it, but if your body is resisting too much, do what works for you.”  

His voice was calming and airy. It resonated through the room. He walked around at a couple of points, checking people’s postures and helping them if they were having trouble. This made Mark a little self-conscious, but Matt just gave him a thumbs up and an impressed nod when he passed him.

He started to think he was getting the hang of it after a while. It was fascinating to feel the way small movements and adjustments made a difference. He didn’t expect it, but he was actually sweating and getting a workout. 

He followed through sequences of downward dog (without giggling, _thank you very much_ ), kicking his right leg back, then bringing his knee to his chest, holding still. Before this moment, he only pictured himself falling on his damn face if he ever tried this, but the flow of the movements was natural enough. Moving into a high lunge, he was surprised at his own flexibility and endurance.  He held poses that challenged his body to stay aligned and strong. It wasn’t easy, but he was getting it.

Of course Matt made it look like a breeze, though. There was no wobble to his balance. He didn’t look like he was even trying. His heels touched the ground in downward dog, and he held a perfectly even plank. All the while seeming so peaceful, like a lazy cat going about its stretches.

At the end of the practice, Matt led them into a sort of meditation. Any other time, Mark would have felt a little weird about laying on the floor, but he could get used to a workout that demanded he lie down afterward. He had to admit he was especially unsure on this part though. He could never truly clear his mind, even though he desperately wanted to. 

“Slow inhale, long exhale. Feel the way you’re weighted down and pressed to the Earth.” Matt’s voice traveled the room as he walked around.

He approached Mark and gave a playful scolding look, waving his hand down his own face and closing his eyes, signaling to Mark he needed to do the same.

Mark complied, smirking. When he heard the footsteps pass, he opened one eye in rebellion, only to see Matt looking back at him with raised eyebrows like he knew he was going to do that.

“Relax into your breathing,” he said, grinning at Mark, then turned away to keep walking. “Don’t hold any tension in your body. Melt into the mat. Stay here for a few moments and completely clear your mind.”

Mark was still skeptical, but figured he was going to be there for a while so he might as well try. He closed both eyes and took deep breaths. With each one, he tried to loosen his body, willing himself to think only about breathing, and the way his body expanded and contracted with air. 

As he continued, an unexpected swell of calm washed over him. He swore he could feel the pull of gravity keeping him on the ground. His mind quieted, the dull noise of his regular stream of thoughts faded. With his arms out to his sides, the cold floor against his hands, Mark connected to himself for the first time in a long time. 

It was the first time he didn’t think about anything besides the way his breath moved through his body.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before Matt’s voice broke through his trance, but the man’s clear and comforting tones eased him back to reality. Like waking up well-rested to the sun shining through a window.

“Notice how your body feels, open your eyes, and take another long breath in,” Matt spoke gently, “and let it out. In your own time, come back to a seated position to close out today’s practice."

A few moments passed and people began to sit up. Mark didn’t want to, but willed himself up.

Matt was sitting cross-legged again, patiently observing his class. Once everyone was sitting, he brought his hands together at his chest, bowing his head, “Namaste.”

“Namaste,” the class repeated back, and people started shuffling again, gathering their belongings.

Mark really wished he could just stay on the floor, where he had the only peace in his life, but that probably wasn’t acceptable. So he slid himself off the mat, starting to roll it up.

As people began to filter out, Matt approached Mark, who was still trying to figure out how the fuck to roll the mat without screwing it up.

"If you fold it in half, then roll it, it’s easier and keeps it cleaner," Matt suggested, crouching to Mark's eye-level, bouncing on his heels a little.

That only made too much sense. “Huh.” He flipped it over itself, rolling it more evenly than he could before. "Thanks.”

He tried to think of something else to say. All of his conversations with Matt before today had been in a group or drunk... or both. It almost felt like he had just met him. “You know, I had no idea you did this. For some reason I never would have guessed."

“I get that a lot,” Matt shrugged. "Have you practiced before this? This was a pretty basic one, but you have good form.”

“Thanks,” Mark smiled, suppressing any dumb jokes his brain conjured. “I haven't really, I mean I did _try_  once, but I think the instructor was… not great.”

Matt nodded understandingly, “That’s common, unfortunately. I’m glad you gave it another shot though, you’re doing great. I teach this level on Tuesdays and Thursdays at this same time if you want to come back.”

Mark considered it. He kind of hated to admit it, but he had enjoyed it. Plus it would be a good break in his routine. 

“Yeah, maybe, I'll think about it."

“Awesome,” Matt beamed, and he was just so genuine that it was contagious.

Mark glanced at the people leaving and saw Travis standing outside the door, waiting to enter the room. 

As pissed as he was initially, he knew now that Travis was right. This was better for him to do on his own. At least he was there to pick him up.

Once Travis made his way through a gap in the people leaving, he entered the room and walked over to them.

“Matt! How's it going?” He glanced at Mark, not bothering to greet him.

"Hey! What's up?" Matt stood up and embraced Travis in a handshake/hug combo, slapping his back a couple of times. 

As they separated, Travis nodded toward Mark. "I'm here to pick up my oldest child. How was practice?"

Mark rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the floor. 

“It was great, you should’ve joined us, man. You got a natural here, though,” Matt joked, referring to Mark. He turned and walked toward the candles, the flames now reaching high. "You must be very proud.”

“Of course.” Travis gave Mark an ‘I-told-you-so’ look, now that Matt’s back was turned. “Wish I could have joined, I had to catch up on some errands, but I’m sure you guys had more fun here.”

_Errands, sure,_ Mark thought.

“Definitely,” Matt nodded, snuffing out candles with a small metal plate. The room filled with the scent of sweet metallic smoke. He walked toward one of the tapestries, reaching up and unfastening it from a nail in the wall. Somehow even in these movements, he was graceful, like everything he did was a carefully planned dance routine.

“I’m trying to convince Mark to come back, but I’m not sure he’s sold.” Matt turned to give him a half-smile, folding the fabric. 

“I’ll wear him down,” Travis laughed. "We should head out for now though.” He spun his keys around his finger and headed toward the door. Mark followed.

Matt turned around fully. “Alright, see you guys.” He pointed at Mark. “See you Thursday.”

Mark sighed loudly with faux-attitude. “Fine,” he caved. He knew he should, and the only way he’d do it is if he held himself accountable for it.

“That didn’t take much.” Travis commented, leading Mark down the hallway to the outside door.

He didn’t feel the need to respond, so he was quiet until they got into the car and Travis continued to pry.

“So? How was it? You really gonna go back?” Travis glanced at him as he looked back to pull out of his parking spot.

“It was good. I actually… really liked it?” He found himself surprised by his own answer, but it was true. He considered the fact that he was neither at work nor at home a big plus, too.

“Thought you would.” Travis was quiet for a few seconds. "Sorry I kinda just left you there. I wasn’t sure if that was the way I should’ve done it.”

Mark was a tiny bit glad to see Travis doubtful of his own sage advice.

"It's fine. I think it was better that I did it myself— easier to focus.”

Travis nodded. “Glad it worked out. If you’re not there Thursday though, you can bet I’ll be over here dragging your ass to class on my break.”

Mark didn’t think that would be necessary. He felt good. He hoped the high didn’t wear off so fast that he’d be right back to how he was earlier in the day, thinking of an excuse to cancel. For that moment though, he really did want to go back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Adding some notes on this one to warn about: implications of suicidal thoughts, depression, negativity, breakups, and just being a lil bit of a bummer. 
> 
> This chapter is short and not-so-sweet but I promise the next few will make up for it.

That Wednesday, Mark couldn’t believe it, but he found himself wishing it was Thursday already.

It was pathetic to admit, but it was the first time he was looking forward to something in an extremely long time.

It was nice to know that he could chill out for an hour and break his sad routine twice a week, but by no means was his life changed. That said, he actually headed home at a reasonable time after work that day, opting to grade papers in the afternoon sunlight of his small backyard.

He still found himself distracted by his thoughts, as expected. It was a little embarrassing that he had been so mopey that his friend felt the need to intervene. Not that it wasn’t appreciated, but he hadn’t realized just how badly he had been hiding it.

Mark really was glad to have a friend like Travis, though. He had gotten him through a lot of shit.

The first time he and Tom broke up, Mark didn’t think he was coming out of it alive.

In retrospect, he should have seen it coming. His partner wasn’t the same person anymore, and it had been pretty bad, but he had believed they could get through it. Tom had succumbed to a hardcore painkiller addiction after a surgery, and Mark was trying to pull him back from it with all his might. He was willing to work for it, for Tom, until it got better.

It never did though. Tom left one day without a word. It was terrifying. He wrote short and confusing emails to confirm that he was okay, but Mark didn't believe that was completely true. He was ready to track him down and haul him back, to check him into rehab, anything. A week later, he called Mark from across the country, saying he wasn’t coming back. In an awful coincidence, Mark had been laid off from his job the day before.

After that, Mark cut off communication with everyone for a week. He managed to destroy half of their old apartment in four days of screaming, sobbing rage. The remaining three days of that week were spent on his bathroom floor. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, but he did spend a lot of time planning out his best strategies on how to get rid of himself. He was convinced that he had nothing left.

At that point, Travis had only known that the two were having trouble, and that Tom was going through a serious addiction. When he tried to contact Mark to hang out and check in on him, his calls and texts went unanswered. When he finally stopped by Mark’s apartment, he found him half-conscious in the bathtub, bruised and covered in dried blood. Mark is still fuzzy about the details of how exactly that happened. He lost a good part of his memory from that week, which was most likely for the best. He didn’t even remember Travis arriving at his house.

It wasn’t exactly his proudest moment. If it weren’t for Travis showing up though, he probably wouldn't exist anymore. He made Mark meals and sat with him to make sure he ate. He helped him clean up the apartment and fix the things he broke, and was embarrassingly, a literal shoulder to cry on. With the help of his friend, Mark bounced back slowly, but surely. He found another job and started getting back on his feet. He hated that it happened, and that he let himself get to that point, but it wasn’t likely to happen again.

He also hated himself for giving Tom a second chance after a year apart. Everyone told him it was a bad idea, but he thought he knew better. He thought he knew Tom better. He knew addiction was a serious illness, one that changed the former love of his life into someone else, but he thought that was their one and only problem. Once Tom was clean again, he thought he’d be back to the old him.

At first he was, but after a couple of years, it still wasn’t the same. They started over, moved to the house Mark now lived in, and tried to return to a domestic bliss they hadn’t fully achieved before. It seemed like it was going to be okay for a while. Then Tom started disappearing again, and he seemed sober, but Mark couldn’t be sure. He saw less and less of him. He truly had no idea what Tom was up to when he disappeared, and asking never got him an answer that made sense. He wondered if Tom would ever be the same, and he couldn’t even blame it on the drugs that time. And if it wasn’t the drugs, was it Mark? Was he just not good enough? He still asked himself these questions if he thought about it too much.

After two more years of trying to make it work, he didn’t have the energy to try to fix it anymore. So he resigned, not pushing back or fighting for it, but holding out hope that some day, he’d be back.

He was alone for a good amount of their renewed relationship. It became a desensitized, normal feeling to miss him— how he used to be, anyway. Finally, after 6 months of silence, Tom left a message on the answering machine.

"Sorry Mark, it’s just not working."

"No shit," He remembered yelling to the machine. Then, "Good fucking riddance."

He was pissed that he ever thought it’d be different, but he was more numb than anything. He spent a weekend packing Tom’s stuff and gave it all to Travis to pass on. He changed the locks. He was done. He didn’t deserve to deal with that bullshit.

Knowing what happened last time, Travis moved in for the week, then visited daily for a month. It was completely unnecessary that time though — Mark actually felt fine. He was angry at himself and at Tom for thinking they could ever make it again, but relieved to finally be done with it. Despite Mark being okay, Travis was always on the lookout for signs of an encore to his spectacular meltdown.

A week later, Mark got an interview for the private school position, and was hired right after the interview. With the new confidence of finding a better-paying job and the burden of a failed relationship off his shoulders, he was flying high. For a while anyway.

Three months into his new job, he lost momentum. He knew he was still a great teacher, but he found himself steadily decreasing the amount of effort he put into it because he couldn’t focus.

Even though Tom hadn’t been around, he was still connected to him when they were ‘together,’ if only in a completely, not-together-at-all kind of way. Even when they were broken up before, Mark still held hope that they could return to normal. It wasn’t until all his stuff was gone and he told himself that they were now totally disconnected from each other that he realized that his entire life was Tom. Even when he wasn’t there, his life centered around when he was coming back or how upset he was about him.

He didn’t know how to be Mark. Just Mark. It weighed on him and clouded his mind. His quality of sleep had been subpar for years, but it was getting worse, and his mind was always dimly swirling. He didn’t feel like he was really there anymore. All that time of numbing himself from how he felt about Tom had just put him on autopilot, now going about his life unable to stop and have a clear thought.

It was time to really and truly move on. He told himself he already had, but he hadn’t. Not fully. Not yet. But maybe the more he pushed himself, the closer he would be to a good place.


	4. Chapter 4

When Thursday finally rolled around, Mark was beyond ready to go back to practice. Knowing that he could cut through the fog of his day-to-day life made him anxious to go back and get that break again.

At least he had something to occupy him after classes that day. 

He had signed on to be the faculty sponsor of the school's LGBT alliance when he heard that the previous sponsor had retired. If he was being honest, he mostly volunteered so he had an excuse to not go home. But he also knew the importance of having a sense of community and support. It was one of the only things keeping him going lately, knowing that these kids were looking at him as a role model for an older person in their community. 

It was getting difficult to keep up that facade though. He was alive and he had a job, but some days he felt just as angsty and hopeless as those teenagers. If he didn’t even have his shit together, how was he going to be a good example for them?

Usually the meetings didn't require much effort — it was more of an excuse for the kids to hang out. Mark was essentially just looking after them, but he would also facilitate discussions about current events or issues. 

That day, one of the upperclassmen had presented them with data she had been researching for her psychology class on depression and suicide rates in LGBT youth. It lead to an incredibly vulnerable and open discussion on personal experiences and people they knew. It was a heavy, emotional meeting to say the least. Mark cried, the kids cried, and he swore even the birds watching them through the window gave them sympathetic eyes. 

He himself stayed quiet in the discussion though. It hit too close to home. This was one of those times where he didn’t feel much wiser or more experienced than the kids. He couldn’t sit there and reassure them that they’d grow up to be fine and well-adjusted, because he had no experience with that. He certainly couldn’t tell them that he felt the same way they did, because what hope did that give them? In his opinion, he was one of the worst people to be a role model.

As the students left his classroom in a somber pack, Mark was left feeling helpless. He planned to stay for a couple more hours after the meeting ended since he still had time before yoga. He had just taken out his lesson plan notebook when his department head knocked on the doorframe.

“Hoppus, go home. You can’t possibly have anything else to do here.” It had become a weird routine. At least once a week, Sarah would stop on her way out and try to convince him to leave. It almost never worked. 

“Gotta make lesson plans,” he held up his notebook, as if that had any proof on it. 

She squinted at him, fully entering the room. Mark appreciated the effort, but it didn’t make a difference. She _was_ one of the only other teachers he truly got along with, but that didn’t mean she could convince him to leave.

“You’re here 12 hours a day; you probably have lesson plans into next year.” She crossed her arms and sighed, “Look, I’m glad you’re dedicated, but I think you’re working too much. This might not be my place to say, but… I’m a little worried about you.”

Mark rubbed his hands over his face, “Oh my god, why does everyone keep saying that to me? I’m fine. I just stay a little late sometimes.”

The fact that his coworkers were even noticing though, that concerned him. She didn’t exactly catch him on the best of days, either.

“Look, I’m gonna be honest with you. You’re getting burnt out. I’ve seen this happen time and time again. You’re spending too much time here, and you’re starting to look jaded by it. You’re a gem at this place, and I don’t want to see you fuck it up. So go home.”

He wasn’t sure if this was a performance review or just a buddy telling him to get it together. Either way, it was frightening. 

“Fine,” he conceded, “I’ll finish up and go.” He didn’t really plan to, he meant it more to tell her what she wanted to hear. 

“Leave now or you’re fired. I don’t care what you do, just get out of this building for once.” She was kidding… probably, but her face didn’t look like it.

“You… can you fire me?” He wasn’t actually sure. "Nevermind, I don’t want to find out.” He gathered his things and wondered if it was healthy to have friends who threatened to kick his ass for his own well-being. 

After a couple hours at home, he started to get antsy. It was still early, but he headed out to the yoga studio, figuring he could hang out in his car with the windows down for a while. 

By the time he got there, it was still about an hour until his class.

He spent the first half hour trying to breathe into relaxation on his own. However, he wasn't able to convince his mind to shut up for longer than two minutes at a time.

Someone else pulled into the parking lot, music blasting. He tried to ignore it, but after a few minutes, the music was still going. He leaned to peer across the small lot, spying a black car in the row ahead of him, windows open.

_Of course._

He shouldn’t have been surprised to see Matt air-drumming in his car. He wondered if this was Matt’s daily routine before class. The contrast of him being a complete spaz one moment but a director of calm the next moment was greatly amusing to Mark.

The song he was listening to ended, and Mark took the chance to call out to him.

“Matt!” He called, waving a hand.

Matt waved back, seemingly not embarrassed at all, which was admirable since Mark was embarrassed just looking at him. He got out of his car and headed over.

His eyes were shaded by sunglasses, and he was wearing an unusually bright (for him) blue shirt with his tight workout leggings.

He took off his sunglasses and leaned down to Mark's window. 

“Look who can’t stay away,” He grinned, raising his eyebrows.

Mark tried to play down the fact that he was there not only voluntarily, but was actually looking forward to it.

“Yeah, well. Travis said he’d personally drag me here again if I didn’t show, so.” He patted the passenger’s seat and gestured for him to get in the car so he didn’t have to lean down. 

Matt jogged to the other side of the car. The door swung open, and he hopped into the seat. 

"You're here early,” he observed. "The class that's going now won't even be letting out for another 15 minutes, then I still have an extra 15 to set up.”

The setting sun cast dramatic light over Matt's face. Shadows lingered on the angles, underscoring his sharp qualities. His eyes were hyper-focused and highlighted by the blue in his shirt. Mark thought that piercing look in his eyes was a pretty good representation of him in general— strangely attractive and a little intimidating.

It was distracting. Even more so when Matt turned and angled his body toward Mark, resting his arm on the back of the passenger’s seat and fully facing him. The attention made him nervous in a way he couldn’t place.

Mark tried to remember what they were talking about. “Um, yeah I left work a little earlier than I expected to so my time is a little off today. Plus I wasn’t sure how long it took to get here.” It wasn’t one hundred percent true, but it was true enough. He left out the part where he got there 30 minutes ago.

Matt nodded, then picked up the tie that Mark had thrown around the gear shift of his car. “What kind of fun job do you have that you get to wear this?” He twisted the tie around his hands and tugged as if he was testing its strength.

“I teach over at Westchester, you know that really obnoxious building that looks like a castle further down this road?”

“Oh yeah, I've seen it. That's pretty cool," Matt said, and it sounded like he actually meant it. "Guess we both like telling people what to do for a living,” he chuckled, “What subject?”

Mark knew his job was boring to most people, so he usually didn’t expand on it that much. “English. A few different levels of it throughout the day.”

Surprisingly, Matt still looked interested. “That must be rewarding, knowing that you’re making a difference in kids’ lives. I think English teachers make some of the biggest impact. You can help kids think about important perspectives and can introduce them to new ideas, different books. You can really influence the way people think and go about their lives.”

_Shit, I need to hang out with this guy more often,_ Mark thought. Usually people would just say, ‘oh nice,' and move on when he’d tell them what he did. He couldn’t help but revel in the validation.

“If I had a teacher like you, I probably would have done better in school,” he smirked and cocked his head, “or maybe worse.” 

Mark wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that, but it made his stomach flip a little.

_Calm the hell down, Hoppus._ It was nothing. He knew he was feeling a little weird about Matt just because he had been lonely for so long. He was getting worked up like a teenager over small talk with a hot guy he barely knew. It didn't help that Matt was both staring into his soul and praising his oh-so-noble occupation.

"So," He thought back to what Matt said earlier, "is this your full-time job then? I guess I always thought people who do this just do it on the side." 

"Yeah, it's probably not the most money I could make, but I have a lot of free time when I'm not in practice. I do three classes most days and they're staggered pretty well."

"Wow, so you're kind of working out all day?" He shouldn't have been too surprised, seeing as Matt was in incredible shape.

Matt laughed. "Kind of. I have to stop and walk around the room a lot though, so it's more of a full practice for you guys than it is for me. I practice by myself on the beach on Saturday mornings. That's when I really get to do full practices, push to the edges of my abilities."

Mark wanted to know what those edges were. He had a hard time believing there was anything that was difficult for Matt to do.

After a while, people began to stream out the door of the building, signaling the end of the previous class. Mark found that he was a little disappointed to have to get out of the car. 

Both men got out and headed to the building. Matt stopped by his car to grab a duffel bag, presumably full of candles and drapery.

When they got to the studio room, Mark was surprised to see how quickly everyone had cleared out. Even the instructor had already split. 

Matt enlisted his help in setting up the space, lighting candles and hanging drapes. People began to trickle into the room, and Matt nodded to each of them with a polite smile.

When the room was set up, he gave Mark a high-five, then pulled him aside.

“Hey, before we start— I usually address this with new students anyway, but I’ve noticed your poses are a little stiff. Do you have an injury you’re being careful about, or are you just not fully loosening up?”

Mark hadn’t noticed he was being that rigid, but it was most likely him not relaxing enough. “No injury… I think I’m just a tight-ass.” 

Matt laughed, “That’s what you’re here for. Keep it in mind though, and really pay attention to how you’re holding yourself and how it feels.” He hesitated for a second. “Also... are you alright with me assisting you if I think you need an adjustment? It involves me putting my hands on you, but it’s strictly professional, to help you improve your practice. I know some people aren’t comfortable with being touched so it’s cool if not,” he rambled out in a half-rehearsed, half-awkward speech.

Watching Matt choose his words was interesting. For someone who seemed like he more or less had it together, it was a little satisfying to see Matt uncomfortable.

“Yeah, I’m cool with it if you think it’s necessary.” Mark then quirked an eyebrow, “Probably never gets less awkward to ask, does it?”

“It really doesn’t, but it’s important,” Matt sighed. “Alright, get out of here, go get a good spot. Sit and get a head start on breathing.”

“Yes sir.” Mark grinned. He caught himself in a bubblier mood than expected, a strange turnaround from earlier in the day. 

After a few more minutes, Matt began leading practice. 

That day's practice focused on core strength. Mark soon realized that he was severely lacking in the core strength department, but he was managing to get through it without completely kicking his own ass. This was definitely more of a workout than the last one. 

He held his Warrior 2 pose as Matt walked around the room, helping people adjust as needed. When he got to Mark, he stopped.

“Hey,” he whispered, “you’re doing good, but you’re not getting the most out of it. Are you— is it okay if I help you out with this?”

"Sure," Mark nodded.

"Alright, open up in the chest." Matt placed his hand gently on Mark's back, between his shoulders, increasing pressure as Mark exhaled. With that small movement, his shoulders dropped back and his posture straightened. It became easier to breathe deep. 

Matt's hands moved to Mark's hips, his touch firm and purposeful. 

"Tuck the tailbone down, balance the weight through both legs," he said quietly, pressing his hand down on Mark's left hip, holding his right, and guiding him into the tilt. 

Mark could feel the difference. He stood stronger, more connected to himself and the ground. Matt's hands had unlocked a stability he didn't know he had. It was then that it he started to grasp the fact that Matt was a master of the human body. With the other man's hands on his hips, he knew Matt could control him, conduct his body in a million different ways. His breathing picked up as his nerves buzzed. His mind started to wander into dangerous territory as he imagined what else Matt could direct him to do— what other sensations he could unlock.

_Oh god shut up, shut up, shut up! What is wrong with you, you dirty motherfucker?_

It wasn't Matt's fault. He was, of course, being professional and platonic. Mark just hadn't been touched since... well, he didn't want to start to measure how long it had been. It had been a long damn time.

"Slow down." Matt's soft voice brought him back to reality.

He was briefly concerned that Matt could read his mind before he realized he meant his breathing.

Matt placed his hands under Mark's arms, straightening them out. Mark could feel how close against his back he was standing. "Balance yourself. Match my breathing." He inhaled deeply, and Mark followed. His back brushed Matt’s chest as they both expanded with the air. A few breaths later, breathing in time with his instructor, he was back to a slow rhythm.

Matt's presence in that moment grounded him and brought a sense of security, like he was tugging a rope to pull Mark safely back down.

"Perfect." The younger man's touch pulled away gradually. He smiled as he floated away like some ethereal being. 

Heat still radiated everywhere Mark had been touched. His heart leapt and he willed it to stop, trying to shut down his thoughts before they got too far.

He sighed, rolling his eyes at himself. 

_Perfect._


	5. Chapter 5

It was his third week attending practices, and each time, Mark found himself chatting with Matt after class for increasingly long amounts of time. Their dynamic felt effortlessly familiar.

That night, Mark sat against the studio wall, his face sore from laughter, watching Matt do a headstand. He wasn’t sure how the conversation had gotten there, but he had dared Matt, ‘There’s no way someone your height can do a headstand.’

Matt proved him wrong, which he should have guessed. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t believe he could do it, but more that he wanted to see it. With Matt's shirt pulled down by gravity, Mark noticed an array of tattoos he hadn’t been able to see before, along with his flawless, muscular core and the light trail of hair that led into his pants. He tried to keep himself from staring too blatantly.

He was definitely losing the battle to not have the slightest crush on his new friend/teacher, but who could blame him? The guy was gorgeous and they clicked together so naturally. It was probably normal to develop a crush on your yoga teacher, and it wasn't like it would go anywhere. He was aiming to tackle his own issues before getting into another relationship anyway. Plus, Matt was way out of his league. He figured he’d get past it soon and they’d both be able to laugh about it as friends down the road.

_Or when we’re celebrating our five year anniversary..._

_Wow. New level of delusional, dude._

As Matt lowered back to the ground, as graceful as ever, he said, “It’s all about balance,” and smoothed his shirt back down.

“I never should have doubted you,” Mark shook his head. It then occurred to him just how long they'd been there. “Shit, sorry I’m keeping you here so late. It must be around 9:00.”

“It’s fine, I have nothing else to do.” Matt reached to grab his bag.

“Yeah, me neither,” Mark replied, contemplating his upcoming busy night of staring at the ceiling trying to sleep.

“Hey, well, I usually just go hang out at this coffeehouse around the corner after practice. You’re more than welcome to join me.” His eyes were kind, eyebrows raised, waiting for Mark's response. 

He was tired, but there was absolutely no way he could deny that face. "I never say no to coffee,” he said, which was true, but he also couldn’t say no to being around Matt. Mark stood, grabbing his rolled up mat from against the wall.

“Alright! It’s within walking distance. They don’t close ’til midnight anyway.” 

Having already taken down Matt’s decor, (a task Mark now found himself an official helper with), they dropped their bags at their respective cars and headed to the coffee shop.

The cool night air made Mark aware of how little fabric he was wearing. He felt naked in this outfit anywhere else but the studio.

“Do you hang out in these clothes all day, or do you change for class? I feel like I’m wearing nothing right now,” he mentioned.

Matt giggled in response. It was adorable and Mark hated that he thought so. “I keep a pair of jeans in my car to put on over these pants if I’m going somewhere else. I live kind of far out from here, so I don’t really have time to go home and change. They’re used to it at this place though, especially since I recommend it to a lot of my students."

They arrived at the door quickly. Mark was surprised to find that the shop was literally around the corner. The charming gentleman Matt was, he held the door for Mark when they entered the building. 

It was a cool place, with local artists’ work hanging on the dark green walls, the employees all heavily tattooed. Mark wasn’t sure if he was cool enough to be there.

“Hey man!” The guy behind the counter waved to Matt. “Didn’t know if you were coming in today, seems like your schedule has been weird lately.” 

Mark wondered if that was because he had been staying late talking to him.

“I’ll always be here for my fix,” Matt laughed. He gestured between Mark and the guy. “Mark, meet my dealer, Jeff. Jeff— my friend Mark. I’m sure once he tries the coffee you’ll see more of him here.”

The guy smiled and looked at Mark. “Nice to meet you. This dude is an enabler, don’t let him bring you into the intense caffeine addiction that he has. He’s already been here for countless cups today.”

Mark shrugged, having already downed at least six cups of coffee earlier in the day. It was essential to his life at this point. “Too late on that, I can probably top him.”

Matt raised an eyebrow and pursed his lips like he was holding back a comeback. In the short amount of time they'd spent together, he picked up on the fact that Matt had a penchant for turning everything into a dirty joke. He just prayed that Matt would continue to hold his words. Matt stayed quiet, but looked like he was pained by his own silence. Jeff didn't seem to notice either way.

The two ordered large black coffees and settled into some cozy chairs in the corner of the cafe. It was nice to see Matt in a more casual environment. He seemed a little less intimidating when they weren’t in a space that he commanded and controlled. He looked softer. A little tired, but in no rush to leave. 

Mark took a sip of his coffee, which was perfect, and enjoyed the familiar sensation of his senses waking up. It was probably all in his head at this point, but the first sip of a good cup of coffee reminded him of when he used to smoke— a rush of relief, a bone to throw to an addiction. He knew the caffeine that kept him running wasn’t helping his scattered thoughts and anxiety, but with the amount of sleep he didn’t get, it was necessary to get through the day. 

He turned to see Matt watching him.

“So? What do you think?” He questioned, eager for the response.

“Do you secretly own this place?” Mark asked, referring to Matt’s intense dedication to this coffee. He took another sip and conceded, “It’s fucking great.”

Matt chuckled, “I don’t own it, but I think I actually am responsible for at least half of their profits.”

“I can see why,” Mark replied, his face in his cup, inhaling the aroma from the steam. The heat and the bittersweet scent eased him down into a tranquil disposition. “You know, I’ve lived in this area for five years and never been here. I've been missing out."

"You really have," Matt sipped his coffee, and Mark couldn't help but watch his lips. 

More and more, his thoughts were crossing the line between simple attraction and craving Matt's presence. He started to feel like every day that he didn’t see him was a day wasted— an inconvenient stretch of time in the way of what he was waiting for.

As Matt's mouth pulled away from the cup, Mark pondered how the taste of the coffee would intermingle between them if he were to kiss him. He imagined that Matt was a passionate kisser, that his lips would be soft and enchanting. Matt's tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Mark’s chest became heavy with longing.

_Pull it together, man._

He tuned back in when those lips started to form words again.

“The beach I practice on is right down that way too,” he gestured behind him, toward the west. “I almost never see anyone else there. It’s so peaceful and really reinforces that whole ‘one with nature’ part of the practice. You should join me some time since you live around here.”

That thought alone was daunting. Not only would he be encroaching on Matt’s solitary practice time, but he would also be hanging out with him outside of an organized schedule. He reminded himself that he was, at that moment, also doing that, but it wasn’t as purposeful.

“That sounds awesome, but I wouldn’t want to throw off your pro moves or your…” Mark waved his hand around, trying to think of the right words, “…zen aura.” That certainly wasn’t the right terminology, but it was the only thing that came to mind. He was usually good with words— his job kind of relied on it, but around Matt, he kept forgetting how to talk. He was still trying to return to Earth after zoning out on the thought of kissing him.

“Uh huh, my zen aura, right.” He nodded and sipped his coffee, clearly trying not to laugh. “Thought you were an English teacher, Mr. Hoppus,” he teased, a smirk creeping across his face as he emphasized Mark’s name.

“Shut up.” Mark shot him a harmless look and begged himself to _please for the love of fuck_  ignore the way Matt's mouth curved around the formal version of his name. The sound of Matt's voice saying it echoed through his head.

Matt kept his eyes on him, taking another sip, then continued, “You won’t throw me off. You’re a pretty quick learner with this stuff. Plus,” He took a second, biting his lip and inhaling, like he was choosing his words. Mark was tortured by this particular movement.

“I think you need the bonus chill factor of the beach to help you relax. I know it’s not really my business, but it might be good for you. I’ll lead you through the practice. I know more or less what your limits are.”

Mark had too many thoughts to sort out before he replied. He kicked the more suggestive ones about his ‘limits' to the side since they were absolutely not helping. But Matt was at least the third person to tell him to chill out, and maybe the most concerning since they had only recently spent time together. If the regular practice had helped even a little bit, a beach practice couldn’t hurt.

“Alright yeah, it could be cool. Maybe some time,” he said, figuring it would be one of those things that never actually happened. “Man, I must be acting like a real mess if even you think I need to relax.”

He wondered what had been so obvious about his stress and anxiety that it showed in the limited amount of time he had been talking to Matt.

“I’m just psychic,” Matt shrugged and sat back in his chair, eyeing Mark. He didn’t say anything more than that, but his expression seemed to challenge Mark to either call him out or accept that it was part of his weird vibe. His face read, ‘I’m kidding, unless you think I’m not.'

Mark took a second to decide whether to play along. Matt waited, his playful grin widening. The more Mark studied his face, he realized he looked like he wanted to be scolded. Mark chose to indulge him with that. “Psychic, my ass. You mean you’re just observant and sensitive to emotions.”

Matt’s expression changed from mischievous to warm, like Mark had passed a test of his. “Maybe so. But it’s also my job to create relaxing environments and help people, in a way. So I can tell when something is off, and who’s there to work out versus who is there to try to bring balance and peace to their lives in general.”

Mark nodded, accepting that as an answer before Matt amended it. 

“Also Travis told me that you need to chill the fuck out in the most loving way possible, so there's that too.” 

Mark shook his head and wondered what else they had discussed about him. “He’s a damn rat.”

Matt smiled, “He’s a solid dude though.” 

The two then began to trade Travis stories, which ranged from heartfelt to wild. For the first time, Mark wished he had gone to more of Travis' crazy parties, because he probably would have befriended Matt a lot earlier.

After two more cups of coffee each, it was 11:30— later than they were both used to being out at this point in their lives.

They walked back in amicable silence, close together on the sidewalk. Mark was grateful for a break in conversation. As much as he loved talking to Matt, his mind was constantly spinning from trying to find the right words and how Matt seemed to press his buttons in the smallest ways. He was attempting to resist it, but he felt physically magnetized to the other man. Even walking beside him, no matter how much space he gave himself, he ended up close at his side seconds later.

As they were about to say their goodbyes and separate to their cars, Matt turned to Mark.

"Hey, so if you're free Saturday morning, I can pick you up at 7 and we can head to the beach to practice." His eyes looked hopeful. He still had a lot of energy for how late it was.

Yet again Mark found himself unable to say no, even though just the thought of going made him nervous.

"Yeah, sure, sounds great,” He shuffled his feet as Matt pulled his phone out from his jacket pocket.

“Awesome,” He handed Mark his phone, with the ’New Contact’ screen open. “Here, just put in your number and address.”

Mark followed his directions, creating a contact with his first and last name. It felt a little impersonal, but his first name wasn’t exactly rare. He hoped Matt wasn’t watching too closely, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he hit the familiar key pattern of his address. Their fingers brushed as he returned Matt’s phone. 

"Cool," Matt smiled, "I'll see you Saturday, bright and early.” He rocked on his heels, looking oddly peppy.

“I’ll be there,” Mark returned, already anxious about Matt arriving at his house when it was still days away.

They turned from each other to walk back to their cars. When Mark got into his, he turned the car on and leaned his head back, inhaling deeply. A lot of things were happening, and now he had to start processing them all. The most prevalent of them being that nagging feeling, that gut reaction, the absolutely annoying and flustering rush inside of him caused by one thing— Matt Skiba.


	6. Chapter 6

Mark had really been wishing he'd spent more time with Matt in the past. He suspected so many years could have been better if he had befriended him sooner. To be fair, Matt was usually trashed off his ass when Mark saw him, so Mark hadn’t seen him as a whole lot more than ‘wasted goth boy’. He kicked himself for not digging any deeper. 

Now though, they were making up for lost time. Mark reminded himself of this as he got ready Saturday morning, the inevitable hesitation creeping into his veins. He spent a little too long on his hair and clothes, past the point of denial that he wanted to look good for Matt. Squinting at the clothes in his dresser drawer, he agonized over the choice. He finally settled on a comfortable t-shirt and a tight-fitting pair of shorts. 

Three knocks sounded from the front of the house. Mark startled even though he should have been expecting it. He took a breath and walked to the door, exhaling as he opened it. 

"Hi!" Matt stood at his doorstep, hands calmly resting behind his back. His smile was bright and lively despite his sleepy eyes. The grey shirt he wore hugged his sides, defining the shape of his body. The sleeves had been cut off, revealing yet again, more tattoos. Mark wanted to know them all, memorize them and trace his fingers over the lines. 

The cool morning air swirled into Mark’s house and he realized he should respond. 

“Hey, come in. I just have to grab my stuff and we can head out,” he greeted, and held the door for Matt to step into his house. 

“Yeah, no rush,” Matt said as he walked past. His tight black shorts exhibited his muscular thighs and shapely ass. He scanned a look over the house. “Shit, this place is nice." 

Mark stood behind him, enamored by the scent Matt brought in with him. Like the environment he set up in his studio, it was smoky like blown out candles or incense, sweet but with a depth of spices that he couldn’t single out, and a faint lingering of citrus. 

“Feel free to explore. You need water or anything?” He asked, turning away from Matt and closing the door. 

“I’m good, thanks. I’ll take you up on the offer to snoop around though,” he gave a half-smile, already wandering toward the hallway. 

Unsure what exactly he needed to bring, Mark stuffed his practice bag with his mat, a towel, and some bottles of water. He then proceeded to change outfits twice before changing back into what he was wearing when Matt got there. 

Matt managed to disappear into the depths of his small house. It was quiet like he had never arrived at all. 

Mark found him in the spare room, standing in front of a bookshelf and reading the back cover of a thick book. He meant to turn this room into a guest room, but never got around to buying another bed. It was where he occasionally did some writing and kept all his books and work papers. Travis called it his ‘moping room,’ referring to its dark maroon walls, all black furniture, and the fact that it was indeed where Mark did a lot of moping. He liked to think that his inner teenage goth approved of it, so he shouldn’t have been surprised to find Matt drawn to it. He looked like he belonged there. 

Matt seemed engrossed in the back cover he was reading, not noticing Mark in the doorway. 

Mark waited until it looked like he finished reading before he knocked on the doorframe. “Ready?” 

Matt placed the book back in the empty slot on the shelf. “Sure. You have a stellar collection here. I’ve never heard of a lot of these but now I want to read them all." 

“You can borrow any of them,” Mark offered. "I’ve read them all at least three times.” 

“I’ll be taking you up on that,” the other man beamed, inspecting the shelf again before looking at Mark. “I could fucking live in this room, but let's head out.”

Mark nodded and led him back out of the house. He locked the door and followed Matt to his car, throwing his bag in the back seat and hopping into the passenger's side. 

Matt turned his key, starting the engine, and music blared out at them at top volume. Mark jumped. 

"Shit, sorry," he chuckled, turning the volume knob down so the music was only faintly audible. The treble-heavy sounds of The Damned trickled through the speakers. 

"It's fine, this happens every time I get in my car too." Mark waved it off, tapping his hands lightly on his thighs to the beat of the song. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw Matt grin and turn the stereo back up. Backing out of the driveway, he hummed along. Once he was onto the street, he turned it up louder and began to sing along unashamedly. 

Drumming his hands on the wheel, he seemed to get more and more animated as the song went on. Mark couldn’t help but smile. Matt was doing his own thing like Mark wasn’t even there. He was in his own element, comfortable and completely authentic in a way that he always seemed to be. In a way that Mark didn’t think he himself could ever be. 

It was admirable, but also incredibly alluring in a lived-in sort of image. Mark found himself wanting to know how Matt went about his day— his routines, the way he slept, and how he looked when he woke up. His chest was tight, knowing this went far beyond physical attraction and that he ached for a familiarity with Matt on a whole other level. He was in deep. 

They arrived at the beach in the timeframe of four songs. They walked a few minutes from the car to a completely empty section of sand. There was nobody around as far as Mark could see. The waves calmly sloshed against the shore. Seagulls called to each other in the air. For as close as this stretch of beach was to his house, he had never seen it before.

When they got to a flat area, both men smoothed the sand and rolled out their mats. 

Mark took a moment to stare out to the ocean and watch the waves. The morning was cool, not yet warmed up from the sun rising in the opposite direction. The wind, loud but steady, turned into white noise. His skin stung from the chill of the breeze.

Feeling like he was being watched, he turned and saw Matt grinning at him, squinting from the light rising at their backs. 

"What?" Mark asked sheepishly. 

Matt looked away, but kept smiling. “Nothing. I just think you're really going to like practicing on the beach.” 

"I'm already liking it so far,” Mark said, keeping his eyes on Matt. He looked so sweet and beautiful in the soft morning sunlight. Mark once again longed to kiss him. 

Matt's stare held steadily on the shoreline for a few seconds before he spoke again, turning back to Mark. “Let’s do something different today." He clapped his hands together, and Mark was immediately concerned. “What are your biggest challenges in your practice?” 

Mark had been ready to follow along with whatever Matt was doing, not to actively shape the routine. “I mean, I guess because I haven’t been doing it that long, I can’t always stretch all the way. I can adapt to whatever you're doing though. I don't want to get in the way.” He wasn’t sure what kind of answer Matt was looking for. 

Matt shook his head. "Don't worry about me. I want to work on what's best for you. What about your mindset? Do you have any problems with focus or getting distracted from what you’re doing?” 

"Um," Mark started, caught off guard by the fact that this was now about him. "It's a struggle to get out of my head. Thinking about the actions helps, but it's hard to get completely out of my other thoughts. Or whatever.” He shrugged, self-conscious. 

Matt nodded, then opened his mouth a couple of times before he settled on his words. “Okay. So... can we try something? We don't have to. It's only a few poses, but there are some two-person partner poses that I think might help you focus more on what you’re doing. If you want.” 

It hadn’t even crossed Mark’s mind that partner yoga poses existed. He couldn’t imagine what it would entail, but he was willing to try it. “Sure. You’re the expert, I’ll take your word for it.” 

Matt looked shy, idly shuffling his feet in the sand. “Before we start I have to warn you that it’s kind of intimate. Obviously I’m not going to go into straight up couple’s yoga, but it’s a fair amount of body parts touching.” 

“As long as the pants stay on, I think we’ll be fine.” Mark cracked, attempting to cover how nervous he truly was about touching Matt. 

“Shit, that cuts out half the routine!” Matt laughed. “Pants on, got it. You’ll have to hold my hand though.” 

“Seems fair,” Mark returned, the fondness in Matt’s eyes easing his nerves. 

He directed Mark so they were standing back-to-back. Matt's palms slid to rest against Mark’s, and a small spark traveled up to flutter in Mark’s chest. Their fingers laced together. He felt so light he could float away, paying close attention to everywhere their bodies joined. He wasn’t sure if he could get through this without combusting from all the butterflies in his stomach. 

“You trust me?” Matt asked, his voice vibrating through Mark’s back. 

“Yes,” he answered without having to think. 

“Good. Exhale and lean forward. Use your core to lower slowly. Keep your heels on the ground as much as you can, arms back. I’ll do the same, and we'll balance each other out.” 

Mark was hesitant about letting himself potentially fall on his face. 

“I got you." Matt’s voice was warm. "I won’t let you fall.” He squeezed Mark's hands in encouragement. 

Mark breathed out slowly, gradually leaning with it. 

“Arch your back, shoulder blades together, open up your chest,” Matt’s voice traveled further away as Mark felt more tension on his hands. 

He stopped falling as Matt’s hands pulled against his, their arms finding stability in each other. As Mark’s back stretched, he inhaled, the salty air flowing through him. Matt’s weight balanced him, keeping him steady as he realized that he was supporting Matt too. It wasn’t just about him this time. They were connected, unable to shape their bodies in this way without the other. 

After a few breaths, they leaned back up. 

“Inhale, arms up. We’ll go into a forward fold and hold on to each other’s elbows, which will give both of us a better stretch.” Matt lead him, a lightness in his tone. "Our asses are going to be touching, but we’ll live. Exhale, and fold.” 

Mark did as he was told, bending forward as his ass pressed against Matt’s, their hands sliding up to each other’s elbows. It was definitely more intimate than Mark had thought, but not exactly crossing any lines. Plus, it really did help him stretch better. 

Several poses later, Mark noticed the difference in his body. He was finally able to touch Matt without feeling like his blood was bubbling. He always felt a little lighter after practice, but this was different. He hadn’t been as distracted— he was concentrating on doing everything right, the flow of his movements intertwining with Matt’s. 

Mark sat cross-legged, once again back-to-back with Matt, leaning against him. His muscles held a pleasant calm after being laid out backwards over Matt, who had supported him folded in a resting pose. Mark's body was relaxed and warm, not unlike the sleepy, loose feeling he had after sex. He tried to wave the similarities off, a challenging task as he melted into the pace of their breath, flowing opposite of each other. Matt inhaled as Mark exhaled, both breathing deeper with the push and pull from the other. 

“Last one.” Matt’s voice rang through Mark, and he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that they were going to separate soon. 

“Inhale and reach your hands up,” he paused, waiting for Mark to proceed. When he did, Matt continued. “Exhale, float your arms down and twist to the left, place your left hand on the inside of my knee. Right hand on the outside of your thigh.” 

Mark twisted and placed his hand back like he would have done if he were doing this pose on his own. 

Matt startled a little and cleared his throat. “My knee's a little lower, Mark.” 

Upon discovering that his hand was near the crease of Matt’s thigh, Mark quickly moved it to his knee. “Oh! Shit, fuck, sorry I didn't—" 

"You're fine," Matt interrupted, a smile in his words. “Next time buy me dinner first.” He twisted opposite of Mark, taking the time to rub his hand over Mark’s knee, presumably as small-scale payback. 

A shaky laugh escaped Mark’s throat, warmth radiating up to his face. 

Matt reminded him to match his breathing, and he centered back down. In a couple of breaths, they twisted the opposite way, and Mark was extremely careful where he put his hands. 

He reluctantly followed Matt into solitary practice after they twisted apart. It was colder, a little lonelier, but he was glad to not have the responsibility of doing it as perfectly. He thought he'd be too anxious the whole morning, but it became comfortable, even more relaxing than class. The ocean had calmed him with rhythmic waves, keeping him grounded with the earth more than regular practice. 

As they finished, Mark sat in his meditative pose, alone with his thoughts again. He knew he was supposed to be clearing his mind, but it was never that easy. Being so in tune with Matt had reminded him just how long it had been since he had felt a connection with someone. He had been numbing himself for so long, trying to push it aside. The complete weight of the last few years piled up on him, pressing him hard into the ground. Everything with Tom, his depression, his insomnia, feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness, it made him physically sore to feel it all at once. 

Holding his breath, he told himself to let it go, taking a few seconds to tune into the crashing waves. Just for that moment, he allowed himself to simply exist. He contemplated the huge and powerful force of the water, imagining himself floating with the waves. With the ocean air blowing around him, he was free, if only for a second. 

Without warning, his face tensed. His throat tightened and his eyes welled up. He brought a hand up to cover his mouth and keep himself composed, but it proved useless. Tears escaped from behind his eyelids and rolled down his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried uncontrollably like this. He didn’t understand why his body decided this was the time, but he couldn’t stop. Remembering Matt’s presence beside him, he tried to stay quiet, suppressing the sobs that caught painfully in his throat. Waves of emotion heaved through him, the tears flowing continuously. 

Once he had accepted that it wouldn’t stop, it was oddly freeing, like his anxieties were draining out and longing to join the sea water. He became a complete mess, unraveling through years of pain and telling himself that one day he might be okay. It took a him few minutes of solid sniveling until he was able to recover and come back to focus on the sound of the ocean. 

When he no longer felt the tears rolling out, he opened his eyes to a blurry vision of the shoreline. He smoothed his hands over his face, feeling almost new, like he was starting over. It pulled everything out of him, leaving him in an intense, tired calm. 

He hoped Matt was still in his own trance. Looking over, he had no such luck. He expected Matt to be staring at him like he had gone insane, but instead he looked sympathetic, his eyes glossy like he might cry too. 

Matt placed his hand on Mark's shoulder and squeezed. “You alright?" 

Mark blinked the remaining tears out of his eyes and looked away from him. His tender expression was too much. 

“Sorry. That was so weird.” He let out a small, awkward chuckle as he flipped the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face. 

Matt inched closer and slid his hand across Mark's shoulders, draping his arm over him. He pressed close against Mark in a sort of half hug. His presence was a warm contrast to the cool breeze, both comforting and exhilarating. This touch was different than before. It wasn't careful and professional, it was personal and affectionate. 

“How are you feeling?" He asked. “I don’t mean to pry, just... I’m here for you.” 

Mark wasn’t completely sure how he felt. A little bit peaceful, but scared. He never thought he would be the kind of person to even do yoga, let alone full-on weep afterward. 

“I’m kind of relieved, I think? I don’t know what the hell that was," he answered honestly. 

“This happens sometimes in class. Sometimes releasing the physical tension in your body can bring up the emotional tension to be released too.” Matt's fingers swept soothing lines along Mark's upper arm. "Do you need some time to yourself? I can shut up and go walk around,” He offered, his words rumbling over Mark. 

Mark really didn't need any more time alone. He didn't want to go back into his head. It was like he finally cut through the fog. He was little raw, feeling everything too much, but he wasn’t so numb anymore. 

"Nah. I've had enough thinking for today.” Mark said, sinking into the embrace and letting himself accept the consolation. He wanted Matt to stay with him. He was secure with his arm around him, his body against him. 

Matt’s other hand brushed the stray hair off his forehead, and Mark contained the blissful sigh he wanted to let out. "You want to talk about anything?" He asked, a gentle quiet in his voice. 

"Not really." Mark shrugged. He didn’t need to bum Matt out with all his angst. He only wanted to tuck his face into Matt's neck and fall asleep there. 

Matt seemed to accept his answer, staying silent and continuing to thread his fingers through Mark’s hair. 

The morning had brought them closer together, their dynamic shifting into something different. Mark couldn’t define exactly what it was, but as he leaned into the solid strength of Matt’s frame, he hoped it wouldn’t ever change back.


	7. Chapter 7

After sitting on the beach a while, they headed back to Mark's place. Matt had spotted his record collection earlier, so naturally he wanted to peruse it. Mark was happy to oblige— he wasn’t ready to be away from Matt yet.

However, it brought to light exactly why Mark hated being at home. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his house, or that he needed to move. It wasn’t even the fact that he had to be alone in the house most of the time. It was the fact that nothing seemed to be 100% his. Sure, he owned things that were _technically_ his, but everything had it’s own memories he couldn’t seem to shake off.

As they sat on the floor digging through record bins, Mark realized he hadn’t done a deep inventory of his vinyl in a while. With good reason, too. His past crept further into his present with every album he picked up. Clear and sharp, his mind painfully replayed flashes of memories.

His collection blurred into vague categories: Tom’s Favorite Albums, Albums Tom Hated, Artists He Introduced to Tom, Artists Tom Introduced to Him, and Other. Almost everything else in the house had the same kind of definition. Everything in his life had the same kind of definition. If he could have figured out how to erase his experiences and listen to the same music for the first time, he would have.

Looking up from the dusty album covers, he saw Matt, flipping through records with his fingers. His friendship with Matt was clean— a diamond in the coal mine of his life. It hadn't been long, but they connected so easily. When he was with Matt, he felt like someone else. Maybe himself, but he wasn’t sure. Not only that, but a whole new set of perspectives opened up when he was with him.

At least that was how he usually felt around Matt. In that moment though, everything mixed together a little too much. He had been keeping him pure in his mind, away from his past. But now, Matt picked up records that Tom loved, and Mark cringed when Matt said he loved them too. He stayed silent, telling himself to keep the two separate. They were absolutely not the same. He knew it was stupid, but it hurt to think that Matt and Tom had anything in common at all. He was still feeling everything too intensely. Whatever happened at the beach had broken down a wall on his emotions that he couldn’t possibly have prepared for.

He felt the other man's eyes on him, but refused to acknowledge the stare.

“Hey,” Matt started softly, placing his hand over the bin Mark was sifting through to stop him. “You’re a little quiet. You doing okay?"

Mark stared at the simple floral outline tattooed on Matt’s wrist. It was a symbol he'd seen on the sign of the yoga studio and in other ‘healing’-type places, but he had never quite known what it was. He made a mental note to ask about it. With no other option, he forced his gaze up to meet the marvelously gentle eyes blinking back at him. He sighed, taking a second to decide if he wanted to honestly answer the question.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but I’m here to listen if you want to,” Matt continued. His face was so sincere that it was hard to look at.

“Um.” Mark ran a hand down his face, as if it was going to prepare him. “It’s just a lot of shit that I’m trying to put behind me. These records just have a lot of memories attached to them.”  

Matt waited for him to continue. His head tilted curiously, supporting Mark with his facial expression alone. It was a completely different listening strategy than Travis', and infinitely more unnerving. It was almost too much attention.

“I uh, I was in a really long and weird relationship that didn’t end well. We had separated, then gotten back together, and I thought it was better, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head. He didn't need to go into detail at that moment. He had already cried in front of Matt once that day and wasn't aiming to do it again. “I’ve been coming to terms with being my own person, you know? I spent more than ten years with him, so everything I know, everything I have and remember… it involves him. I want to live my own life, but I don’t think I’m making much progress."

Matt nodded and took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry, man. That’s rough. But it’s really good that you’re focusing on getting over it and finding yourself.” A small, sweet smile formed on his face, “You’re pretty cool, so I’m glad you’re finding you."

Feeling a tiny blush creep across his cheeks, Mark looked down again, chuckling, “Thanks. I’m not sure if that's true, but thank you.” He sighed, “I really just… have no idea who I am. Almost everything I used to enjoy is associated with him. I don’t know how to find myself if everything is attached to someone else."

Matt was quiet for a second.

He took a breath, then proceeded, “I mean, your experiences will always shape you. We’re all influenced by everyone else in our lives, and we’ll never be blank slates. But, you know, all of that stuff? It's also yours. Your memories, your favorite music, movies, books, things to do— they’re not just his. And not just the two of you as a unit. They’re yours too, so you can take them back." He looked at Mark insistently, like he needed him to understand.

"How though?" Mark saw his point, but it wasn't that simple. He couldn't just say, 'These are mine now!' and it'd all be fine.

"Make new associations. Take those triggers that bring him up in your mind, and re-associate them. Listen to a song you feel like he owns, listen until it loses it’s meaning. Listen again and again while doing something you like, or something new. Find new meaning in it and reclaim it for you. Kick him out of your mind.”  

Mark didn't really believe that was possible.

Matt picked up a record from the box Mark had been flipping through. It was _The Head On The Door_ by The Cure. "How do you feel about this one?"

Mark flinched. That one definitely fell into Tom's Favorite Albums. The Cure was one of Mark's all time favorite bands, but he hadn’t been able to listen to this album in a long time. He remembered Tom belting out 'A Night Like This' as he walked around their old apartment, years ago. He considered the memory to be bitterly fitting. The entire record contained lyrics that he interpreted to be so woefully appropriate that he couldn’t listen to it. He frowned as he looked away from the record cover.

Matt's eyes widened knowingly. He held the album up next to his face. “This? This album? This is an amazing album. This isn’t his. Listen to it. Acknowledge your feelings— you don’t have to pretend you don’t feel that way, but you can reassign it.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just think about something else?”

Mark wasn't convinced that would work at all.

“You have to make a new association. So... more like do something else.” He looked away, pensive, then snapped his fingers. “Have you ever made brownies from scratch?”

Mark furrowed his brows in confusion. First of all, no, he had only made them from the box like a modern human being. Second of all, _what_?

“Do you mean like, brownies or _brownies_?” He squinted, as if that made his implication clearer. It was a lame question, he knew, but it was important since he was subjected to random drug testing for work. Also because he didn’t know anyone who wasn’t a suburban mom that made brownies for any purpose that wasn’t weed-related.

Matt laughed heartily and shook his head. “Man, you are so fucking adorable.” He reached over to pat Mark’s cheek to complete a sentiment that would have been condescending if Matt’s smile didn’t betray that he truly meant it.

Mark’s face heated up again, half embarrassed and half flustered. “Whatever. Shut up. Seriously though.”

"Just regular, innocent brownies sir, I swear.” He dropped his hand and supplied a coy smirk that sent electricity through Mark.

Matt sprang up from the floor and gestured to the record in his hand. “This is now the album you listened to when you made vegan brownies from scratch for the first time."

He set up the record in the turntable and started it up. After the music began, he headed to the kitchen and started scoping out Mark's cupboards.

Mark stood to help him find the ingredients in his kitchen. Much to both of their surprise, he had everything they needed. He didn’t remember buying any of it, but figured Travis was responsible for a good majority of his pantry.

“Are you just that amazing of a baker that you don't need a recipe?” Mark asked, confused that Matt seemed like he knew exactly what he was doing, despite having no reference.

"I'm not much of a baker, I've just made this one so many times that I've memorized it. Brownies are pretty much the only thing I can bake," Matt replied, "whether or not _those_ are innocent..." He raised his eyebrows and trailed off, grinning to himself as he measured out ingredients into separate containers.

Mark was regrettably enchanted by his devious demeanor. "Here I was thinking you can do anything. Yoga teacher, baker, therapist— you do it all."

Matt shook his head. "I've just seen a lot of things, known a lot of people. I've been through and seen a lot of bad breakups in my time." He looked up from the ingredients at Mark. “A broken heart is a broken heart. They heal differently, but have the same lasting affects. One of the hardest things is getting them out of your head once they're out of your life."

That was too true, seeing as Tom was gone for almost half of their relationship, and he was still haunting Mark. "Broken heart sounds so pathetic." Mark said, looking at the floor.

"Is it wrong though? In your case?” Matt glanced back at him.

He took a moment to consider it. "I don't know. It's not so much a broken heart anymore. I guess I never fully got over it the first time and now I can’t shake it. I don’t miss him— it just sucks to think about how things were when they were good." Not to mention being a huge blow to his self-esteem.

A few seconds passed, Matt nodded understandingly as he pulled out a pot and turned the stove on. The break in conversation allowed the music to flood through as the dominant sound. Mark became weighted with a distressing nostalgia.

“Come here,” Matt’s words cut through his thoughts, “You’re going to make these, I’ll walk you through it.” He held a wooden spoon out to Mark. “Melt the oil and chocolate together in that pot.”

As the record played on, Matt directed him on how to assemble the batter. Every now and then, Mark felt a twinge from the music playing. Without missing a beat, Matt would redirect his attention seamlessly. Soon enough he felt himself slipping more into the warmth of their interactions than the cold memories of the past. Mark wasn’t sure if it was truly working, or if he was just distracted. Matt seemed to be convinced that he knew what he was doing though, so he went along with it.  

While they waited for the brownies to bake, Mark made coffee and the two sat and talked in the living room. After a thorough debate over the best albums of the '80s, Mark started quizzing Matt about his life. Feeling a little exposed from how open he had been that day, he wanted to turn the spotlight on Matt.

Matt had just sat down after starting the record again and dancing back to the couch. He swayed a little with the music.

Mark tried to approach the subject he really wanted to know about as casually as he could. “So since we’ve established that my relationship status is a mess, what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

Not super smooth, but it would do.

“Nah.” Matt’s face turned dreamy and shy as he looked away. His expression was vague. It could’ve meant he was thinking about an ex, maybe a crush, or that he was just loving the single life. His gaze wavered between the window and the floor. When he continued, he said, “I’ve been taking it easy. I’ve fucked up a lot of relationships just by being an ass or a generally intolerable person.”

Mark found that hard to believe.

“I think I’d be ready to be in another relationship, I just want to make sure I do it right. I’ve spent some time just..." he looked back at Mark, shrugging, “working on me. I’m trying to be better, y’know. About everything. So when the next one finally falls for me...” He looked away again, a smile creeping up his face that he looked like he was attempting to suppress. “Hopefully I can keep ‘em around.” He took a sip from his mug like he was hiding behind it.  

Mark knew that feeling— thinking about someone and being unable stop smiling like an idiot. He tried not to read too much into it. He didn’t want to wonder whether Matt could be thinking about him or if he was thinking about someone else. If it was the latter, he didn’t want to know.

The timer went off, and Matt popped up from his chair like getting the brownies out was the most important thing in the world.

Mark followed him into the kitchen. He grabbed a hand towel and reached into the oven for the pan. A searing pain hit the inside of his arm. By some stroke of dumb luck, he managed to burn himself on the top rack of the oven.

“Fuck!” he hissed, tossing the pan on the counter as quick as he could.  

“Shit, you get burned?” Matt asked, sliding close to him.

“Yeah, its not that bad, don’t worry about it,” Mark seethed, trying to be tough even though it did hurt like a motherfucker. He held out his arm to examine the bar-shaped pink mark on his forearm.  

Matt rummaged in the freezer and came out triumphantly holding an ice cube. He placed one hand under Mark's wrist, and the other held the ice to his burn.

It wasn't really necessary, but Mark wasn't going to deny the attention. In recognizing the different sensations on his skin, he started to get dizzy. The sting of the burn, the cold ice relieving the pain, Matt’s hand holding his wrist, his own hand falling into place on Matt’s arm— it was a lot. His stomach flipped when he caught Matt's eyes so close to his face. They were illuminated in the late morning sun that spilled into the kitchen, wandering Mark’s face like he was looking for something.

Matt locked his glowing eyes on Mark’s. "Is this why you don't bake that often?" he asked, mild but playful.  

The word ‘breathtaking’ repeated in Mark's mind as he maintained contact with Matt’s intense stare. Matt’s pupils wavered dramatically between dilation and constriction, battling the sunlight. Mark was spellbound; he couldn't bring himself to reply. 'Kyoto Song' rang thick and sensual through the speakers, sharp and low tones contrasting each other. The atmosphere wrapped heavily around them. He wanted to bathe in the tension of the moment and Matt's presence.

Matt’s eyes flicked to Mark's mouth for a fraction of a second. He cleared his throat and took the ice off of Mark. "Alright, shit's cold, that should do the trick." He rubbed his cold thumb over the burn, then released his hold on Mark’s arm.

Before Mark could even drop his arm, Matt had already grabbed a fork and stabbed it into the middle of the pan, inspecting it when he pulled it up. “Cool, they’re done, so you can stay away from the oven." He placed his hand on Mark’s back and rubbed a small circle before gliding away again to pour himself another cup of coffee.  

As the brownies cooled, the two explored Mark's bookshelf. About fifteen minutes went by before they caved and started cutting brownies out of the pan. Mark was surprised with how good they turned out for being homemade  _and_  vegan, and was thereby converted from Team Box Brownie.  

Matt was in the middle of chewing when he said, "Oh shit, what time is it?"  

“12:47," Mark replied, looking at the clock.

"Fuck, SHIT, I have a class at 1," He said, his words muffled from the brownie he was stuffing into his mouth.

The sight of Matt, a glorious god of fitness and peace, shoving a brownie into his face and scrambling to gather his belongings was too hilarious. Mark couldn't stop giggling.

“Shut the fuck up.” Matt flapped a hand at him dismissively. "I'll text you, let's get lunch tomorrow if you're not sick of me." He said, placing another brownie into a napkin and speed-walking to the door.

"How could I ever get sick of _that_?" Mark quipped.

Matt just pointed at him with raised eyebrows and slipped out the door.

Mark was so thrilled with the thought of seeing Matt again the next day, and the image of him leaving _his_ house to go to work, that he barely noticed when 'A Night Like This' came on for the second time.

When he did notice, he turned the volume up and started cleaning the kitchen.


	8. Chapter 8

'Sick of me yet?’

Mark stared at his phone. The text message from Matt filled his chest with warmth. Of course he wasn’t sick of him. He wanted to be around Matt all the time. His thumbs hovered over his phone’s touch keyboard. He typed out, ‘Never. Lunch?’ and read it a few times. Deciding the two words would suffice, he pressed send.

‘PERFECT. Sparrow’s Wing at 1:00?’ appeared in the message string almost immediately. Matt always knew the best restaurants in Mark's neighborhood.

'Cool. Sounds great.’

‘See ya soon, can't wait!! xo ✨♥︎'

Mark tried not to read into his sign-off. It was just Matt’s style of communication, but it still made him nervous.

He spent an inordinate amount of time picking out the right t-shirt and jeans to wear, then headed out to the restaurant.

Mark parked and checked his hair in the rearview mirror, then got out of his car, scanning the lot for Matt's.

As he approached the building, he spotted Matt leaning against a sleek black motorcycle parked near the door, looking at his phone through his sunglasses. As usual, he was in all black— faded skinny jeans and a band t-shirt. There was a black jacket slung over a bag on the seat of the bike. He looked like a picture from a fucking music magazine. It reminded Mark of their pre-yoga encounters. Much more ‘punk kid who would kick over your trash can’ than his other look, ‘punk fitness guru kicking your ass into shape’. Both had similar aesthetic, but with this look, he looked younger, rougher, a little more dangerous. Mark couldn’t decide which look he liked better, but he did know that he hadn’t cared about motorcycles until that exact moment, when he suddenly found himself swooning over a boy on a bike.

"Dude, are you fucking kidding me?" He said once he was in Matt's sight range, walking over to stand in front of him. Matt seemed to check off an absurd amount of items on the ‘hot guy’ checklist. It would have been comical if it wasn't agonizing.

Matt lifted his head and grinned, "Nice to see you too.” He stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket and taking a step forward. He always managed to stand just on that line between Respectable Distance and Too Close. Close enough that Mark could notice how good he smelled and that Matt was just a little bit taller than him. Close enough that Mark constantly ached to wrap his arms around him.

"You weren't gonna mention this?” Mark gestured to the bike, wishing he could’ve been a little less awkward and greeted Matt with a friendly hug.

"Never came up." Matt shrugged. He took his sunglasses off and gave Mark a once-over look. “Casual suits you." He tilted his head, then reached and smoothed his hand over Mark’s shoulder, thumbing across the fabric on his collarbone. "You look really good, man," he said. Mark delighted in the compliment and the warring adrenaline and ease that the other man's touch brought him. Before he could respond, Matt quickly withdrew his hand, turned to grab the bag from the seat of his bike, and started toward the building.

Mark managed to reply as he followed, "Likewise. Can't remember the last time I saw you wearing real pants, but the whole ‘actual clothes’ look works on you."

Matt stopped in front of the door and stared at Mark, eyes twinkling for a second. “Works even better with none at all,” he cracked, and reached to hold the door for Mark.

He couldn’t come up with a witty reply that wouldn’t leave his mouth as a desperate whine, so Mark rolled his eyes with a fond smile and thanked him as he walked through the door.

The two were sat at a tiny window-adjacent table, making comfortable small talk until they ordered their food and drinks.

“Mr. Hoppus!” a voice called from a few feet away. Brandon, a regular of the LGBTQ alliance and a student in his Junior English class appeared in Mark's line of sight, smiling bright. He made his way to their table.

“Hey kid! What’s up?” Mark greeted.

Brandon pointed to his waiter apron. “Working. It blows, but gotta make money for college right?” Mark nodded. Brandon turned his gaze curiously to Matt.

The polite thing to do was introduce them, Mark supposed. “Brandon, my friend Matt, Matt, one of my students, Brandon.”

Matt reached out to shake his hand, which Brandon took over-enthusiastically, looking back at Mark in approval.

“Your teacher also happens to be one of my students,” Matt told the kid, letting go of his hand. “Yoga,” he clarified, like he realized he should explain.

“Ooh, nice!” Brandon looked at Mark and mouthed ‘wow’ dramatically, surely not out of Matt’s sight range. He sidled closer to Mark and said in a voice that was absolutely not as quiet as he thought it was, “Damn, Mr. Hoppus, good catch!"

Mark furrowed his brows in his best scolding-teacher face as Matt chuckled. He was both mortified and shamefully delighted that Brandon thought he was dating Matt, but it was not a conversation to have in front of him, if at all.

“Okay okay, I gotta get back to work, see you tomorrow!” The kid laughed and walked back toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, see you,” Mark replied, still glaring to let him know his comment was inappropriate.

“That's a scary look,” Matt observed, his tone challenging.

Mark exhaustedly turned the same look to Matt.

His eyes widened, clearly thrilled. “Oh, Mr. Hoppus, am I in trouble?” Matt teased, breathy lightness in his voice, and continued with a small, defiant quirk of his eyebrows, “What are you going to do to me?” He left his mouth open in a grin as he finished his sentence, sweeping his tongue between his teeth.

Mark’s brain shorted out. A cascade of increasingly filthy images flooded his mind. Matt wearing nothing but Mark's tie. Matt's hands bound with Mark's tie. Matt on his knees under Mark's desk. Matt bent over Mark's desk. Matt's legs around his waist. Matt's thighs against his face. He rubbed his eyes like it might help cleanse his thoughts and absolve him of the distressingly hot clip show that happened in his head.

“Oh my god,” He groaned, passing it off as dismissal of Matt’s statement. “You’re awful,” was all else Mark could say, nervous laughter crawling its way up from his chest. He hoped he wasn’t blushing; even the tips of his ears were warm.

Matt looked pleased with himself, but moved on to a less direct form of torture. “Okay, but you’re totally the teacher everyone has a crush on. You know that, right?”

Mark scrunched his face. “Ugh, I don’t know. That’s weird.” He'd rather not think about his students having any feelings about him other than respect.

“I know, but you remember how it is, being a teenager. God, I was such an ass to the teachers I thought were cute.” Matt looked down, shaking his head.

“Not surprising,” Mark supplied.

Matt cocked his head in agreement, then returned to his point. "Even with coworkers and parents though. You must be a real hit at the parent-teacher conferences."

Mark shrugged, flattered. “Not really. I don’t know. I can’t say I’ve ever been won-over by a parent flirting with me in front of their angsty kid.” He had only been hit on a couple of times anyway— he didn't exactly put out an ‘available’ vibe. Plus, he definitely hadn’t been ready to date. He still wasn’t, despite longing to be around Matt as much as possible and kiss his ridiculously beautiful face and hold him close every night when he went to sleep. _Fuck_.

He flipped the focus to Matt, attempting to get away from his thoughts. “You’re one to talk. You can’t tell me your students aren’t fawning over you.”

_I certainly am._

Matt smiled and glanced away, huffing a small, shy laugh. “I guess,” he said, then added, “I mean, yeah. I know some people choose me as an instructor just because they think I’m pretty to look at." He rolled his eyes. "Which I guess is fine, since I get paid either way, but I’d rather it be because they like how I teach."

“Must make it easy for you to get a date,” Mark joked. Matt scowled a little, and he rushed to add, “Not that you’d be creepy about it or anything, I just meant—"

“Don’t worry about it.” Matt waved it off, “I know what you meant. Half the people in my classes want to fuck me because I’m flexible or whatever. And like, Stockholm Syndrome of having to look at my ass all the time, probably. The nature of the job kind of puts me on that pedestal, but I’ve gotten used to ignoring it.” He seemed a little resigned.

Mark had a pang of guilt about sexualizing Matt. That wasn’t all it was for him, though. He really loved spending time with Matt and thought he was an awesome teacher. Truly an amazing person in general with a good heart, a great sense of humor, compassionate loyalty, and an admirable level of curiosity.

Still, Mark had to ask. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, and it was borderline insensitive, but he couldn’t seem to stop the question from leaving his mouth. “Have you, though? Hooked up with or dated people from your classes?”

Matt eyed him, and for a second Mark couldn’t tell if his question was out of line, but then his eyes glinted in a way that made Mark brace himself. “No, but there’s a first time for everything.” He gave a playful wink, followed by a slow smirk.

Mark’s throat went dry. The all-too-familiar wave of overwhelming lightness made its way throughout his body. This was just another example of Matt’s sense of humor and the flirtatious nature of their friendship that Mark was still trying to navigate. He gave a small laugh and looked down, trying to stay cool.

Matt's right hand rested on the table, the flower outline on the back of his wrist serving as a good topic change for Mark. He shifted in his seat. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you," he reached and tapped on the tattoo, trying to keep himself from following the lines with his fingers, “what is this?"

Matt's face lit up, turning his hand over to glance at it. "Oh, it's a lotus flower. My artist wanted to jazz it up, make it realistic, but I like the humble little outline." He looked at it adoringly.

"It's pretty. Is that what's on your studio's sign too?” The one on the sign had a little more detail, a few colors. "I've seen it in a few different places, does it have some kind of meaning?”

Matt leaned forward and squinted, “Mr. Hoppus, aren’t you supposed to know all about symbolism?”

“Cute,” Mark scoffed without malice.

“I try to be.” Matt replied. He was succeeding.

“Contrary to popular belief about English teachers, I don’t have a reference book on flower symbolism.”

Matt started to dig through his bag and pulled out a pen and a small sketchbook. He flipped to a blank page and started to sweep the pen in curved lines that mirrored the ones on his skin. Mark wondered what was on the other pages.

“It’s a big icon of yoga practices, healing stuff, rehab centers sometimes. Different cultures have their own meaning for it. My favorite is the whole idea that the plant grows in these dirty, swampy areas, but when it blooms, it’s like it's totally pure and new. So it’s fighting through all the shit to come out better than the mud around it like ‘fuck you, I’m gonna be pretty.'” He tapped his fingers on the table, pausing to tilt the book to another angle, then proceeded. “My other tattoos don’t really have a whole lot of deep meaning, but I got this one after I decided to get my shit together. Y’know, sober up, stop fucking up my life. It sounds kinda lame, but it’s there to remind me of being able to get through the tough shit and come out clean. Better.” He looked a little bashful, like it was more than he intended to say.

“That’s not lame at all. It's beautiful,” Mark told him. Matt bit his lip and kept his eyes down. Mark couldn’t have hoped for a more perfect explanation. He loved Matt’s interpretation of it, and it felt like what Mark was striving for too. The tattoo moved with Matt’s wrist as he drew, the unassuming outline on his skin representing so much, sitting there as a small encouragement.

“I’m sure you can relate,” Matt said as he ripped the page out of the book and folded the edges into a smaller square around his drawing.

“I’m trying to be that, man, but I just keep coming up some other ugly thing," Mark laughed.

“That’s not true." Matt looked at him and frowned. "Hold out your hand.” He reached his arm out.

If Mark had learned anything, it was that Matt had a reason for whatever he was doing. Mark presented his palm with a questioning look, and Matt slipped his outstretched hand under Mark's. He placed his drawing in Mark’s hand, folded just small enough to fit in his palm, and enclosed both hands around Mark’s. Meeting his eyes, Matt gave him the sweetest smile he had ever seen in his entire life and said, “You just haven’t bloomed yet."

Matt's smile was contagious. Mark couldn’t fight it spreading across his face. It was kinder than anything Mark deserved to be told, and it was, in fact, totally lame. But god damn if Matt didn't make it seem like the most charming fucking thing in the world.  
_______

The next morning, Mark groggily shuffled his lesson plans on his desk as students trickled into the room with various degrees of enthusiasm. His Junior-level English class was the first of the day, which he was grateful for, since they tended to be a little more calm than both the Freshmen and Seniors. Except Brandon, ever energetic, who bolted straight to Mark’s desk.

“Mr. Hoppus! I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about your boyfriend!”

Mark glanced at him over his glasses, then around the room to see that the boy’s exclamation had drawn the attention of the few other kids who were there early. Class didn’t start for another 45 minutes, but there were always some kids who got there shortly after Mark did. Some of them chatted with him and some would just quietly read. He had built a good rapport with the early kids, but this was still a weird conversation to have around or with them. “Matt's not my boyfriend,” he said with what he thought was an even tone, and looked back down at his papers.

“Ouch. You gonna do something about that?” Brandon's voice was sympathetic.

Mark sighed and ran a highlighter over some important lines of his notes with stern determination. Truthfully? Probably not. He was planning on harboring feelings for Matt until it all just faded away or until he did something stupid. Or maybe he’d just wait for Matt to wink at him again and it’d be enough to end him. He was sure one of these days something as small as Matt’s hand on his shoulder would be his cause of death. He wasn’t going to tell Brandon any of that though. “We’re friends. I may not seem like the coolest person to you guys but I do have friends,” he exhaled a short laugh.

“So you don’t want to date him? Didn’t look that way,” Brandon scoffed. Mark felt the color rising in his face. He prided himself on being pretty low-key about his personal life around his students, despite knowing all about theirs. Besides, it wasn’t appropriate. He chose not to respond, but was met with, "You do! Oh my God!"

Mark covered his face with his hands. "We shouldn't be having this conversation," he said, muffled.

"What's happening? Are you traumatizing Mr. Hoppus again?" a familiar voice rang from the direction of the door— Katie, another one of his alliance kids.

"Yes," Mark answered, dropping his hands miserably.

"Woah, you’re bright red." Katie slapped Brandon's arm. "What the hell did you say to him?"

"I saw him at work with his yoga teacher that he's in love with.” Not completely wrong, but a little painful to hear.

Mark grumbled, "Fucking hell," to himself, quiet enough that it wasn't audible around the room.

"What? You were on a date?” Katie leaned closer, speaking in an excited whisper.

"Don't sound so shocked. I have a life!” He didn’t, but whatever. Mark leaned back, exasperated. “It wasn’t a date. I was having lunch with a friend."

"A friend he wants to date,” Brandon clarified. Once again, not wrong. Still painful.

“How do you know?” Katie crossed her arms and gave Brandon a skeptical look.

“Uh, well first of all the dude was hot? Covered in tattoos, rode away on a fucking motorcycle. Total heartthrob. Of course he wants to date him. Second, I’ve never seen Hoppus look so happy. Thought they were gonna kiss at any moment.”

“This is so inappropriate.” Mark sank down in his chair, heat in his face. He knew he was totally gone for Matt, but talking about it made it that much more real and humiliating. Especially talking about it with his students.

“Didn’t know you rolled like that Mr. Hoppus, guess you’re into the bad boys?” Katie laughed. Mark wanted to disappear. “Well, obviously we’re invested in this now, so you have to let us know when you get together."

Mark stared at the ceiling, hoping for it to fall down. “I’m failing you both, have fun retaking English III.”


	9. Chapter 9

Mark woke up to his heart fluttering with adrenaline. He fought with himself to stay asleep, to go back to his dream. His sheets were heavy, clinging to the layer of sweat on his skin. The bed was too hot, but he wanted to stay in the feeling, so he didn't move. He wasn't ready to leave the scenario his dreams had conjured. He felt blood pumping throughout his body, pressure pulsing impatiently below his waist. With an arm slung over his too-warm face, he pressed his bicep against his eyes, willing the sunny, hazy images in his mind to stay. He could still picture it all clearly if he concentrated enough. A scenic view of Matt's body, the underside of his jaw, the feeling of Matt's hands in his hair. His mind had been flipping between two different scenes: one of Mark mouthing down the plane of Matt's torso, and another of Matt's lips grazing his neck, hand moving smooth and slow on Mark's cock.

 _Can’t believe dream-me is getting all the action. What an asshole._ He slid his right hand over his boxers, palming over his erection and sighing. Anything short of a cold shower wasn't going to calm him down, and even then, that wasn't a guarantee. He brought his hand up to his face to lick a wide stripe, then slipped it back down into his boxers before the images had the chance to fade away. He pictured Matt’s pretty face, his devious smile, his big steady hands with letters printed on those long fingers.

The scene reeled on, alive in his imagination. Matt laid on his side, kissing the space between Mark’s neck and shoulder, jerking him off in firm, even strokes. He could almost smell the woodsy sweetness that constantly lingered on Matt. His own harsh breath and the quietly rhythmic rustling of his sheets served as white noise as he thought about Matt’s mouth dragging wet and warm down his body. Waves rolled through him at the imagined feeling of Matt's gorgeous lips around his cock. Mark's heels dug into the mattress, the band of his shorts restraining movement of his forearm.

Experimentally, he let a word slip out, a heavy, nearly silent whisper of "Matt." His hips jerked sharply with the swooping feeling that travelled through him.

He visualized those steely blue eyes, surrounded in smudged black lines like he had seen before. He heard Matt’s voice in his head, a hushed growl of his name, and that was it. His hips stilled and heat dropped through him. Pressing his arm heavier across his furrowing brows, he came hard with the thought of Matt’s striking eyes on his, staring up from between his thighs. Panting through it, he began to feel himself falling back down, trying not to crash into reality too fast. A calm washed over him as he held on for just one more second, picturing Matt crawling up to kiss him— mellow, soft, and warm. Everything was golden, just for that second.

Then it all disappeared. The inevitable guilt had already started before he fully caught his breath. He kicked his sheets away, the dream fantasy rapidly fading out to leave him hot, sticky, dirty, and alone in his bedroom. His left arm flopped out to the side and his eyes opened to darkness.

“I’m fucked,” he said to the room. He let out a groan, then a prolonged, miserable, “Fuuuuuck,” and made his way to the shower, right hand still resting in his shorts.

Mark let the cool water run over his face. Even if it wasn’t usually to this degree, Mark kept waking up thinking about Matt. Since the beach, they’d seen each other almost every day that week. Tuesday and Thursday were class followed by coffee. On the odd days, Matt had invited him to check out record shops and book stores. On Friday, Matt dropped by his house to borrow some books, which turned into Mark making him dinner. Matt invited him for another beach practice on Saturday, but Mark thought it'd be best to avoid sobbing for at least a week.

He didn’t see Matt all Saturday, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a withdrawal-like sensation, even though they had still talked throughout the day. He still missed his presence. Maybe it was for the best if he took a break from Matt. Maybe it’d give him a chance to cool down and let his feelings simmer down. As he watched the suds rinse down his body, he committed to keeping it a quiet day alone at home.

Around 9am, a light drizzle outside became heavy rain, pounding on the roof in a tranquil, uneven rhythm. Mark spent the morning on the couch in clean boxers and a loose shirt watching an old movie marathon.

He had just poured water for tea when three loud knocks sounded from his front door. Wondering if he should put on sweatpants, he made his way to the door and looked through the peephole.

Sure enough, there was Matt— wet from the rain, but lovely, as usual. He hadn’t called or texted, and not that Mark wasn’t happy to see him, but he was definitely unprepared. Still, it was raining, and even though his doorstep was covered, he wasn't going to make him wait out there.

Mark opened the door with a “Hey, man!” and decidedly did not think about the way he saw Matt in his mind earlier that morning.

“Hi!” Matt rocked on his heels as he glanced at Mark’s shorts. “Sorry to drop by unannounced, I was in the area this morning getting breakfast with Dan and Derek so..." He took a book out of his messenger bag and handed it to Mark. “I wanted to return this.”

“Oh! Thanks.” Mark found the image of Matt and his other cool punk friends having Sunday breakfast to be way cuter than he should have. "Well hey, come in.” He opened the door wider, then added, “If you’re not busy.”

Matt followed Mark’s lead, stepping inside and taking off his jacket. “Never too busy, my friend."

"You want some tea? I've already got water boiled," Mark offered, closing the door behind Matt.

"Sure. Just hanging out today?" He asked, rubbing the jacket over his head to dry his hair.

"Yeah, good weather for a lazy day," Mark answered as he walked into the kitchen and gestured to his open cabinet of various teas. "Take your pick."

Matt reached for a box and took out a tea bag. "For sure. I won't keep you long, I'll watch for a break in the storm and be out of your sight."

"I mean, you can stay. If you want to.” Mark said, hoping he would.

"Yeah?" Matt asked. Mark nodded, pouring hot water into a mug for him. "That’d be awesome."

Mark handed him the mug, their fingers tangling as he passed off the handle. He felt underdressed since Matt was fully-clothed. "Make yourself at home, I'm gonna go put on pants."

"You don't have to put on pants for me, I don't mind," Matt smirked.

Mark shot back a reply he figured Matt would be proud of. "Well, I think we're a little uneven here. Either I have to put on pants or you have to take yours off."

Matt's face cycled through surprised, impressed, and wickedly excited within the span of a few seconds. "Don't think I won't traipse my completely bare ass through your house, Hoppus, because I absolutely will," He said before blowing the steam off his mug.

Mark laughed and proceeded down the hall to change.

When he returned, Matt was perched on the kitchen counter, watching the rain drip down the window. It was such a beautiful sight that Mark wished he could have taken a picture. He turned to the living room and stretched out diagonally on the couch, leaving the smaller couch and a large chair for Matt when he decided to join him.

Instead, he strolled in and sat opposite of Mark on the other side of the same couch, leaning on the arm with his legs out to the side, knees brushing Mark's calves. He shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn't that Matt didn't respect boundaries— more that he seemed to think that he and Mark didn't need them. Mark tended to agree. His couch wasn't quite big enough to fit two people over 6ft tall, but both of them pretended not to notice.

The two had a subdued, cozy day together. Laid out on the couch letting the marathon reel on TV, they tuned-in between conversations and had conversations during commercial breaks of stuff they really wanted to watch. Mark made lunch, then they ordered food for dinner when the rain let up.

It initially gave Mark an overflowing amount of comfort. Like that was how everything was supposed to be. It felt right. It had been nice to fantasize about a domestic existence with Matt, but having a realistic glimpse of how it could be was almost too good. He somehow managed to convince himself that this was a bad thing. _You could have this, but you'd fuck it up again eventually_ , his mind told him. The thought of attaching his life to someone again and risking going through another round of heartbreak sent an unpleasant chill through his chest.

He was deep in thought, staring blankly above the TV as everything spun around in his head, when he felt a hand on his knee.

"Hey, you alright?" Matt's voice was light.

Mark turned to look at him. Matt could always tell when he was agonizing about something. “Yeah I’m okay, why?"

"Because," Matt kneed over to Mark's side of the couch and smoothed his thumbs in opposite directions across Mark's eyebrows, physically taking him out of a scowl he didn't know he had on. Mark kept still. Matt's hands held the sides of his face. His eyes were compassionate. "You look like you're giving a very serious lecture in your head."

He was. It was to himself, telling him to either suck it up and be happy that he was spending time with Matt, or to become a hermit to avoid ever falling in love again. Matt's hands gently dropped to Mark's shoulders.

"I'm alright, just..." he waved his hand, trying to think of an excuse, "...thinking about some work stuff," he lied.

Matt shifted his body to fit between Mark and the back of the couch, then laid his head on Mark’s chest. “It’s still the weekend, worry tomorrow.” He patted Mark’s leg. “Unless you want to talk about it?"

Mark’s heart was beating so fast that he was sure Matt could feel it. He cleared his dry throat so he wouldn’t squeak out his reply, “Nah, better to just not worry about it.”

Matt sat up, propping himself up on his arm. “Sorry, is this- am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, I just… wasn't expecting it. You're fine. It's fine.” He told both Matt and himself. Totally casual, platonic cuddling with his best friend. He didn’t do this with any of his other friends, but Matt was just an affectionate guy. Nothing uncomfortable about it. Except the fact that Mark fell more in love with him every passing second, but yeah, other than that, it was fine. "I don't mind. Really."

Matt searched his face, then settled back on his chest. “Okay. Don’t ever be afraid to tell me if I’m bothering you. Or just push me off. I'm pretty resilient." He draped an arm across Mark’s stomach.

Mark placed his hand on Matt’s shoulder, both to reassure him and to return the affection. He gave a warm laugh and said, “I don’t think I’ll need to."

Matt looked up at him and smiled, then turned back toward the TV. As they laid together watching North by Northwest, Mark's hand crept into Matt's hair. He pet delicate caresses between the soft blonde strands. Ignoring the part of his mind that frantically searched for meaning, he let himself slip into the fond motions. Matt let out a contented sigh against his chest. Mark focused on how Matt's head gently floated with his breath, fighting the urge to press his lips to the top of it.

A movie and a half later, Mark peeked down at Matt, who had been silent for a while. His eyes were closed and he looked absolutely angelic. His breathing was slow and steady. No matter how nerve-wracking it was to be in love with him, Matt brought him a sense of security, of grounding.

Mark hadn't been able to examine the details of his face so closely before. The elegantly defined bow of his top lip formed dramatic slopes to the curves of his full lips. Freckles dusted lightly across his eyes like a film negative of the night sky, darker spots dotting constellations that Mark wanted to map into his memory. He could lose himself in the celestial details of Matt’s face.

Matt's hand twitched on Mark's chest and brought him back to Earth. It had to be getting late. He checked the clock on the cable box- 12:32. Not an unusual time for him to be up, but he knew Matt had 6:30am classes on Mondays. By the time Matt got home, he wouldn't be getting a lot of sleep. He _really_ hated to disturb him, but he ruffled Matt's hair and said, "Hey, it's past midnight."

Matt took a deep breath, followed by a faint, creaking whine that swept through Mark’s chest and belly. “Shiiiiit, I have an early class tomorrow,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

“You can stay over, if you want.” Mark offered, his hand boldly continuing to roam through Matt's hair. “Since it’s closer to work,” he finished, like he had to justify it.

"Man, I'm never gonna leave if you keep petting me like that.” He pressed into Mark's hand, then turned to look up at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll get you some clothes to sleep in and better pillows if you let me get up.” He rubbed tiny circles at the base of Matt's neck.

He gave a sleepy grin, nuzzled back into Mark’s chest, and threw his leg over Mark’s body. “I like this pillow just fine."

Mark weighed the possibility of sleeping on his couch all night with Matt on top of him. It was doable. He might not have any feeling in his arm tomorrow, but it’d be worth it. He was seriously considering it when Matt made the decision for him.

“Okay, I guess I should let you go to your bed,” Matt sighed, unwrapping himself from around Mark to sit up.

Mark briefly contemplated extending a casual invitation to his bed, but thought better of it. "Be right back," he told Matt.

He got up and fetched comfortable clothes from his room, a blanket, and a couple of pillows from the linen closet. He brought them back to Matt, nudging a pillow against his face. Matt lifted his head for him to slip the pillow underneath, then sank into it.

“Mmm thank you, handsome. I owe you my life.” He caught Mark’s hand, running his thumb along the knuckles.

Mark placed the clothes and blanket on the edge of the couch with his free hand. “I can’t possibly accept that.”

“Fine. I owe you my eternal love and gratitude.”

“That will have to do.”

Matt smiled, brought Mark’s hand to his lips, and kissed it. Mark watched his mouth form a kiss and felt the tender press of his lips as his eyelids flicked down to display the full expanse of his freckles again. He squeezed Mark’s hand then let it go, closing his eyes. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Anytime.” Mark stole another look at Matt's relaxed form, then headed to his room, adding, “Goodnight,” as he proceeded down the hall. He heard Matt mumble a similar sound in reply.

Mark fell asleep to wishful thoughts of Matt sneaking into his room, and of waking up to his smile.

As usual though, he woke up alone at 4:00am, longing for Matt to be next to him. He read for a while, then took a shower. At 5:30, he went out to make coffee, and hoped Matt wasn't too light of a sleeper.

As soon as he stepped into the living room, Matt stretched under the blanket. “Morning, beautiful,” he greeted with sleepy eyes and a lazy grin.

“Look who’s talking,” Mark replied, serving the compliment back to him. Matt bit his lip and looked away. Mark continued, “Sorry if I woke you up.”

Matt sat up as Mark headed to the coffeemaker. “You’re good." He paused to yawn. "This is actually 30 minutes later than I usually wake up for this class.” He made his way to the bathroom.

“Guest stuff is in the middle drawer on the right, let me know if you need anything else.” Mark told him, watching his own clothes loosely fitting to Matt’s body.

A minute later, Matt emerged, almost sliding into the hallway. “Shit, I don’t have any work pants. I don’t think I’ll make it in time if I go home.”

“You can borrow some of mine,” Mark replied. “If that’s not like… gross."

“Really?” He asked. Mark nodded. “Not gross, that would be perfect. You’re a lifesaver. I wouldn’t even be able to stretch in the jeans I wore yesterday."

Mark found him a clean pair, similar to what Matt typically wore. They were a bit small for him, since he was taller and much more muscular than Mark, but they’d stretch just fine. Matt took them with a “Thank you, thank you, thank you," and a delightfully tight hug.

Mark changed into a button down shirt, pants, and tie while Matt showered. As he poured coffee for both of them, he heard Matt walk to the kitchen. When Mark turned around, both of them stopped and stared. Seeing Matt with his tight black pants practically painted on him sent an unbelievable swell through Mark. Blue stripes on the sides hugged the strong shape of his thighs. Matt's usual pants weren't exactly conservative, but with these being just a little too small, Mark had to make an extra effort not to gaze at the slightly more evident bulge of his dick. It felt like an eternity before either of them spoke.

“So. Those… fit.” Mark pushed out, not sure if he trusted himself to keep talking, or even keep looking.

“Yeah. Um…” Matt chuckled. "That tie is really nice,” he nodded. He kept his eyes fixed on it, and didn't look at Mark's face.

“You like it?” Mark said, seeing if he could play with Matt a bit for once. He flicked the bottom of it between his fingers, then tightened the knot. Matt's eyes followed his hands. “Maybe you could borrow this some time too," he added, knowing full well that Matt didn't need to wear a tie anywhere.

Matt scanned his eyes back up to Mark’s face and seemed to regain his confidence. “I do like it,” he said, and reached to take the tie in his hand, fingers skimming Mark’s chest. “It’s nice to see you in your work clothes, since you always see me in mine.” His words, innocent enough on their own, left his mouth in a weighty, languid tone that made Mark weak at the knees. He flipped the tie over to examine it, idly tracing his fingers over the weave of the silky fabric.

“I guess that’s just, you know, I don’t really have to wear this outside of work," Mark replied, backtracking nervously. He should have known that he set himself up for this feeling.

Matt tugged the tie firmly toward himself, causing Mark to step closer to keep his balance. “You don’t have to, but nobody would complain if you did,” he said, turning a devilish smirk to Mark. "Like, god damn, teach me a lesson, Mr. Hoppus.” His voice was a bedroom-level of gravelly, in a way that Mark wanted to feel closer, louder, with their bodies sharing heat.

Mark's heart pounded. He started this. He couldn't keep letting Matt do this alone. "What do you want to learn?" He said low, raising an eyebrow and letting the question hang for Matt to take wherever he wanted.

Matt stared, wide-eyed, like he didn't expect Mark to return the banter. Their faces were dangerously close. If Mark were much, much braver, he would have closed the gap and kissed him. Rough and biting, for the trouble he knew he was causing. But Mark wasn’t that brave. There was absolutely no way Matt didn’t see the blush burning its way across his face. He was fully aware of what he was doing to Mark- he had to be. But between Mark’s hesitance to love again and his complete lack of confidence, he still couldn’t quite tell what Matt's motives were. It kind of seemed like Matt was legitimately into him, but Mark loved their existing dynamic and he didn't want to fuck it up if he was wrong about it. He could live with his pathetic, unrequited love, but he didn't even want to think about a life without Matt in it again.

Matt flattened the tie back onto Mark's chest, his mischievous smile returning. "I'll have to think about it." He picked up one of the mugs of coffee and hopped onto the kitchen counter, knees wide.

Mark found himself a little disappointed. Maybe that was as far as Matt would ever take it.

"Hey, speaking of teaching, my class tonight is intermediate level. You think you're ready to try past beginner? I think you could do it." Matt swung his legs out.

Mark wanted to scream from how quickly Matt could switch tones, like he hadn't just had Mark on the verge of asking if he could bend him over that same counter.

Instead, he shrugged. "I don't know if I can level-up just yet."

"Travis told me he was gonna show for this class, you should join." Matt kicked his legs and held the mug between his hands.

Mark took a breath to regain composure. He hadn't actually seen Travis in a while, plus it seemed kind of fitting that he'd be there. He and Travis kind of owed each other a class together, in a weird way. "Fine, he better actually make it this time though. Let's just say it wasn't my idea to take your class by myself."

Matt let out a loud laugh. "You mean you didn't drag your grumpy ass in there yourself? Shocking."

"Shut up," Mark weakly slapped his leg and leaned against the counter next to him.


	10. Chapter 10

Mark showed up to Matt’s studio at his usual early time to help set up. When he peered into the room, Matt was already arranging his candles. It was silent except for the clinking glass of the containers. Mark leaned on the doorframe, watching Matt bend over and check inside the glass, trimming candle wicks. He had almost forgotten what Matt looked like wearing his too-small pants, and let himself linger quietly, enjoying the view.

He couldn’t have predicted how worked up he got about Matt wearing his pants. Maybe it was just the fact that they were tighter, but it really _did things_ to him. Maybe it catered to his possessive side. All he knew was that he really wanted to press up behind Matt and lick the curve of his jawbone.

Matt turned, his face sliding from neutral to elated. "Thought I felt somebody watching me," he said, walking closer and tossing a tapestry at Mark. “You gonna help out, or are you too mesmerized by my ass?”

Mark caught the fabric and fixed his gaze on the floor. "Uh..." He smiled, unable to come up with an excuse before looking back up at Matt, embarrassed.

Matt's eyes sparkled. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a voice in the doorway.

“Yo, how the hell did you get the recluse out of his house?” Travis called, saving Mark from the conversation.

"Hey man! You're early." Matt walked over to greet Travis in a handshake-turned-hug.

"Thought I'd stop by and hang out for a bit. Can't believe you got Mark here, let alone decorating for you." Travis approached Mark and embraced him in a handshake-hug of his own.

Matt watched them with an adoring expression. “I’m very convincing." Travis shot a questioning glance at Mark, and Matt continued, "I told him you'd be here. I guess he's got some sort of yoga vendetta against you?”

Travis laughed. "I kind of owe him company in class." He gave Mark a sheepish look, a slight apology in his tilted eyebrows.

Mark returned a kind nod to let him know it was alright. He headed to the nails on the wall to hang the tapestry. He had really been meaning to thank Travis. The yoga classes had given him something to do and look forward to, along with an incredible friendship with Matt. Even though he felt like a drooling teenager half the time, at least Matt made his life more exciting.

“I know it's short notice, but the kids are with their mom this weekend and I'm gonna have some people over, if you guys wanna stop by."

'Having some people over' in Travis' subdued language surely meant he was having a party of at least fifty people. Loud music, a considerable amount of alcohol, some people Mark was cool with, and several people Mark wanted nothing to do with. It just wasn't his scene anymore. He loved Travis, but the other people there weren’t always great.

He had found that it was really exhausting to be at these kinds of gatherings by himself. When Tom was around, the two of them were a sight to see. Cracking jokes, rapid-fire commentary, and all-around pretty fun to be around, if he said so himself. But alone? Mark couldn’t keep up that kind of entertainment. He was sure everyone saw him as a sad, grumpy, asshole who didn’t want to be there. They weren't wrong.

He walked back to them and gave Travis a pained look, silently conveying, ‘Do I have to?'

Matt however, was pumped to go. Which was interesting, since Mark couldn't imagine getting through one of these parties without drinking, which he assumed Matt didn't do a whole lot of anymore.

“I’m there.” He grinned.

“Awesome dude, glad to hear!” Travis turned to Mark, "I know it's not your favorite thing, man, but you’re always welcome."

Before Mark could reply, Matt told him, "You're totally going."

Mark prickled at the order, everything in him resisting. He crossed his arms defensively over his chest, his shoulders creeping up near his ears. "I don’t— I don't know. I'll have to think about it." All of his muscles tightened.

"Come on, it'll be fun." Matt tsked at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. Some of the tension drained as Matt stroked his fingers over the arm nearest to him. “Stick with me, we’ll just hang out, you don’t have to be the life of the party.”

He had a point, and it was what Mark needed to hear. Plus, Mark had yet to have a bad time lately whenever Matt was around.

Travis' eyes darted between them. It had to have been a strange sight. As far as Mark recalled, the last time he’d seen the two of them in a room together, it was actually at his house. It was a while after Mark and Tom split the first time, and Travis had dragged him out to try to get him socializing again. Matt had approached Mark and kept bringing him drinks. Straight off the bat, he started a philosophical discussion without even making small talk.

That’s what was always so weird about the image of Matt in his mind. Before he walked into his classroom, he had known almost nothing about him. They'd had some really odd and deep conversations about the world in general, but they hadn't actually known each other. Mark stuck with him that night because he was the only one not asking him about where Tom was. The only other thing he remembered was waking up at home the next morning with a killer hangover. To Travis, their dynamic was probably still just two drunk dudes talking about the implications of political borders.

Now though, Mark could imagine exactly what they looked like: Mark crossing his arms in a stubborn, anxious stance, Matt draped around him, reassuring him and saying it’d be fine as long as they’re together. The image had to be reminiscent of a couple. He reveled in it, immaturely indulging in the fantasy.

Matt tightened the grip on his shoulders, and he realized he should give some sort of decision. He knew Travis really didn't mind if he skipped out. This was Matt's demand though, and Mark yet again had a hard time denying Matt any request.

“Maybe," he hesitantly conceded, turning to see Matt's hopeful eyes staring at him. "Alright, fine," he sighed, and was rewarded with a bright smile. Even if he ended up having a bad time, it was worth agreeing to go just for that face.

"I'll make sure he's there," Matt told Travis, giving Mark’s arm a squeeze before stepping away to finish setting up.

A group of four people chatting amongst themselves walked in. Mark and Travis settled next to each other on the left side of the room.

“So you guys have gotten close.” Travis gave him a small smirk, raising an eyebrow.

Mark took a second to decide how honest he should be. He determined this wasn't the right time or place to start gushing about how much he loved Matt. 

“Yeah, for sure. We’ve been hanging out a lot. All the time, actually." He tried to suppress the idiot-in-love grin that threatened to show itself.

Travis nodded. Mark could tell he had questions, but wasn’t going to pry. “Glad to hear you’re not sitting around at work or at home all day.”

He was right. Mark had been leaving work at a decent time— not too far past 4:00. His house didn’t seem like _too_ bad of a place to be lately either, especially not with Matt around.

Mark did wish he could sit there and wax poetic about Matt, but chose to catch up with Travis' life as they waited for class to begin.

The routine Matt led during that class was harder than Mark was used to. He managed through it, but worked up way more of a sweat than usual. Since there were a lot of poses he wasn’t familiar with, Matt had stopped by to assist him a few times. Mark was still amazed at how good Matt was at his job. Every time he gave a small adjustment, it made a world of difference.

Near the end of the class, Matt directed the class to tabletop position, backs flat, raised on their hands and knees.

“Okay, some of you know where we're going here. One of my personal favorites. We’re gonna move into puppy pose,” he quipped in a voice Mark recognized as impish.

A few people giggled, some others groaned.

“I know, I know, it’s awkward, but it’ll release tension in your shoulders and stretch your spine. Plus,” Matt cocked his head, “it’s fun to try out at home, maybe with a partner. I'm just trying to help you all out here. Trust me.” More giggling followed.

Mark was intrigued and a little concerned.

"Walk your hands out to the front of your mat. Exhale. Melt your chest to the floor.” Matt demonstrated as he spoke.

With each move, Mark told himself to focus on the pose, and only that. Matt was on his knees, arms outstretched in front of him, chest and forehead pressed to the floor. His ass was up, accentuated, and _very_ clearly defined thanks to those pants.

"Keep your hips up and back, and remember to really open up in your chest and hips.” He rolled his hips in a circle, arching his back momentarily. “Don’t be afraid to play around with it a little. If it hurts your shoulders, it’s okay to rest on your elbows instead.”

All Mark could think about was the way Matt’s muscles curved underneath his clothes, and how he’d feel against his body if Mark were kneeling behind him. The feeling rushed down through him as he thought about roaming his hands down Matt’s back, holding his hips close against himself. He suspected he’d continue to agonize over this image later.

Matt folded out of the pose, standing to roam the room. He made eye contact with Mark and raised his eyebrows, in a small, scolding expression, which was when Mark realized he wasn’t participating. He had just been on his hands and knees, staring the whole time. He gave a shy smile and hung his head from tabletop, resigning and walking his hands out in front of him.

Once he got settled into position, he breathed into it, feeling the stretch in his back. He recited a list of books he’d assigned for one of his classes to get his mind on anything that wasn't the shape of Matt’s body.

After a few breaths, Matt made his rounds over to Mark. He heard footsteps circle him before Matt’s hushed voice sounded close to his ear, “Huh. You’re pretty good, you done this one before?”

“Fuck off,” Mark laughed quietly, the implication inundating his mind with new images.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,'” Matt said, light and airy as he knelt beside Mark. “Arch a bit less while you’re holding it, though. Engage your core and tuck your tailbone.” He gently placed a hand just above Mark’s ass, then the other on his belly to tilt his back straighter.

Mark's imagination flipped the script, now picturing Matt pressing up behind him, thinking of how he'd feel grinding against him. If there was anyone he’d trust with his body, it’d be him— strong, confident, handsome, Matt. If he hadn’t already known before, this was what sealed the deal that he was utterly, completely gone for the guy. It was a deep level of trust for him to even consider giving over control like that. He couldn’t believe himself, sitting there thinking about the possibility of Matt fucking him. Ashamed, he committed to taking a long cold shower when he got home, dedicated to pondering over the least arousing thing he could think of: American literature. He reminded himself to breathe slowly.

Matt leaned and placed his hands on Mark’s upper arms. “Roll outward, shoulder blades together. Relax the tension in your neck,” he said as he encouraged Mark’s arms to rotate. Mark was consistently astounded at how Matt was able to differentiate the feel of his hands between precision and intimacy. His touch lifted gradually away from Mark. “Awesome. You’re doing really good today.”

Mark scoffed, his breath bouncing back at him off the mat. “Total bullshit. You’re kicking my ass, dude."

“Seriously, you’re doing great,” Matt snickered and massaged his thumbs over Mark's shoulders— soft and affectionate this time, not a hint of professionalism— before standing and returning to his place at the front of the room.

He led them through a cooldown routine, and Mark had never been so happy to finish out a class. It was fun, but he knew he’d be feeling it the next day.

Afterward, both Mark and Travis helped Matt clean up in record time. The three of them sat against the wall, Mark in the middle, catching up.

Matt was sure to voice his gratitude to Mark for his hospitality, once it was revealed to Travis that he’d spent the night at Mark’s. 

“Man, I got here so early this morning, _and_ I got extra sleep, you’re gonna have to keep me from crashing on your couch all the time,” he said.

Mark shrugged, trying to stay casual with his offer without sounding like he wanted Matt to be around as much as possible. “You’re welcome to stay over any time. Especially whenever you have early classes, I know you live far out.”

“Careful what you wish for, I’ll be there every day,” Matt bumped his knee against Mark’s.

Mark thought that sounded like a good plan. “That’s cool with me. Kinda wish I wouldn’t have put off getting a bed for the extra room though, otherwise you could use that.”

_Or you could just sleep in my bed. With me. That’d be fine._

Travis piped up, “I’ve got an extra air mattress I can give you Friday, if that would work. I never use it, so maybe you can finally turn your moping room into a guest room instead.” He gave Mark a friendly punch to the shoulder.

Mark’s heart warmed at the thought of Matt feeling comfortable in his house.

“That’s way too kind, I don’t want to be such a moocher.” Matt shook his head.

“No way man, seriously. Any time, all the time, it’s fine.” Mark hoped he didn’t sound too enthusiastic, but figured he’d be okay as long as he didn’t spill his inner monologue of _please, please live in my house, I love you and I want to see you always._

“If you say so. I might take you up on it a few times. Feel like I should pay you rent when I stay over, though.” Matt grinned. "Does Hotel Hoppus accept sexual favors as payment?”

Fighting the desire to say, ‘yes,’ Mark just laughed and replied, “You don’t owe me anything. It’s really no problem.”

It turned out that ‘a few times’ meant ‘a few times this week,’ as the two of them ended up staying very late at the cafe after practice on Tuesday and Thursday. They agreed it was necessary that Matt sleep on Mark’s couch those nights, since his classes were so early on Wednesday and Friday. Mark thought it was very resourceful that Matt started conveniently keeping a few changes of clothes and an overnight bag in his car.


	11. Chapter 11

That Friday, Matt returned to Mark’s house at 8:00pm.

Mark received a text that read, 'car has arrived, your highness ✨' and headed outside to meet him. When he caught a glimpse of Matt through the rolled-down window, all of the air left his lungs.

His eyes were lined in black, purposefully smudged. A tight black ribbon laid across his throat, complemented by the makeup and his usual all-black clothes.

"Wow," Mark said, stunned. There was no point in playing it down. Matt looked good and he deserved to know. "You look so... pretty."

"Oh," Matt gave a bashful smile. "Um, thank you." He breathed a small laugh, turned a few shades pinker, and looked away from Mark, still smiling.

He acted like he had no idea how beautiful he was, but Mark found that hard to believe. He rounded the front of Matt's car to hop into the passenger's side. "What, like you don't know? Sure, pretty boy," he teased as he slid into the seat.

Matt bit his lip through a coy grin. He gave Mark a quick, pleased glance before looking away again and shifting the car into reverse. “Put your seatbelt on,” he said, smile audible through his words.

Mark smirked to himself as he complied with the order. Matt was so gleefully flustered over being called pretty. Mark was sure to make a mental note of this information.

They drove to Travis’ house with comfortable silence between them, buffered by the sound of Matt’s radio. Mark tried to suppress his anxiety and hoped that he wouldn’t have to answer any questions about Tom. It had been long enough, so he thought he might have been safe, but people tended to let their curiosity overtake politeness. He could only hope for the best.

Once the two arrived, they greeted the people they were actually happy to see and got some of the awesome food that Travis made. Shortly after, Matt took on the role of Mark's bartender. He even remembered Mark’s go-to drink from years ago, merely asking ‘you drinking?’ before heading to the bar area. He returned with a gin and tonic in a glass for Mark and a plastic cup of cranberry juice and seltzer for himself.

Matt made his drink strong, but Mark figured he could keep himself in check.

While they hung out by the kitchen, a shorter guy approached Matt with his hand held up for a high-five. "Matt! What's up man? It's been a while!"

"Hey, Dave!" Matt replied, meeting his hand with a slap. "How's it going?"

"Good, good! You're looking quiet. More shots, yeah?" Dave nodded toward the bar.

Matt gave an awkward chuckle. "Nah, I'm taking it easy. Not trying to get too crazy."

Dave scoffed. "Aw dude, that's no fun! Let me pour you something.”

Annoyance and a little bit of something else flared in Mark's chest.

"I'm just hanging out, it's cool. Thanks though.”

Mark could tell Matt was trying to give a kind dismissal.

Dave rolled his eyes just a bit and looked at Mark. “Way too tame. Gotta get this guy liquored up by the end of the night dude, bring out the fun in him, right?"

Mark kept himself from scowling. The fact that Dave had implied Matt wasn't interesting to be around unless he was drunk made that feeling in Mark's chest burn hotter. He never wanted to hear anyone say a single vaguely negative thing about Matt, especially _to_ Matt.

"I don't know about that." Mark eyed him. “I think he’s great already. Matt’s always fun."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Matt turn to him, but he chose to keep looking at Dave.

"Alright dude." Dave shook his head and slapped Matt on the shoulder. He was oblivious to the unwelcome environment he’d created for himself. "Catch you guys later!" He walked away.

“Fuck that guy," Mark said, watching him leave before turning back to Matt, who was giving him the biggest doe eyes.

Matt blinked a few times. "Um." He huffed a small laugh. “Thanks for that."

He looked shy and oddly timid. Mark had never seen him like this. He had usually embodied an effortless coolness, like he didn’t really give a fuck what anyone thought. He didn't quite have that manner in that moment, though. Mark wondered if this was the first party he’d been to since he’d gotten sober. It seemed like unfamiliar territory for him. He realized that maybe Matt wanted him there because he wasn’t using alcohol as a social crutch anymore, and he needed the company as much as Mark did.

"Just telling the truth," Mark insisted, flashing what he hoped was a charming grin.

Matt swirled his cup, staring at the ice cubes circling. “Well, I’m glad you think so. Guess some people prefer me in my most embarrassing form,” he followed with a bitter not-quite-smile.

“Not anyone that matters,” Mark returned. Whatever insecurities he had about the night were temporarily pressed down. All he wanted to do was help Matt feel like the shining star of a person that he was. Anyone who didn’t see how perfect he was on his own wasn’t worthy of being around him anyway.

“I’m bringing you with me everywhere I go,” Matt shook his head. Mark didn’t object.

Throughout the night though, Mark wasn't able to avoid some of the questions he’d been dreading. He understood the curiosity— the on-again-off-again nature of his past relationship had people wondering, but that didn’t mean he had to cater to it.

“So you’re not with Tom anymore, huh? Sorry to hear that. Man, I really thought you guys were gonna make it this time,” or some variation of the sort became a common opening statement.

Mark would nod in a 'no shit, so did I’ sort of way, sip his drink, and reply simply, “Yep."

“What is he up to nowadays anyway?” was usually the course of conversation, avoiding asking him what they actually wanted to know, which was, 'what exactly happened between you two?'

His usual answer was, “Your guess is as good as mine,” with a genuinely flippant shrug. He didn’t really care and wasn’t interested in speculation.

Matt however, became slightly defensive for his sake. The first time it happened, Matt redirected the person to the bar, offering to pour them a drink and get Mark another. When he came back, he seemed furious.

“Why? Why would anyone ask that? What the fuck?” He handed Mark his glass, then flailed like he was too upset to control his limbs.

Mark tried to hide his smile. It was sweet that Matt was so worked up over it for him, but there were worse things they could have asked.

It only happened a few more times, but Matt started to step in with his own replies, beginning with “Maybe you should ask Tom," and then getting more creative.

The third time someone asked, Matt waited for Mark’s dismissal, then leaned his elbow on Mark’s shoulder. He took a breath, his sly ‘I could either be joking or 100% serious,’ look taking place.

“Oh, you guys didn’t hear?” He started, glancing at Mark. He continued with a gossipy tone, “I heard he’s in Antarctica researching alternative fishing techniques. It’s this whole thing where people live in isolation and do nothing but sit around thinking about different ways to catch fish. It's interesting. You should give him a call about it, but he probably doesn’t get good reception up there. You know, being in Antarctica and all.”

For all Mark knew, it could have been true. At least it made the conversation more interesting.

When they both agreed they needed a break from the crowd, they settled in a calm corner of Travis’ living room. Mark sat in a large chair, and even with other seats available, Matt made himself comfortable on the chair's arm, crossing his legs and leaning on Mark. Mark had no complaints— he loved when Matt found space for himself wherever Mark was.

"How you holding up?" Matt asked, pressing closer to Mark's shoulder.

Mark twirled the straw in his glass, thinking about how Matt remembered the drink he’d brought him years ago. “I’m alright. Not sure if it’s just your heavy-handed mixology though,” he smirked.

“Sorry,” Matt peered into the glass, “Force of habit, I guess.”

“It’s okay, it’s good. Seems like I need it strong tonight,” he said, then wondered if it was an insensitive thing to say. He quickly added to the revolving door of apologies they seemed to have entered. “Sorry, I just mean— ”

“It’s okay,” Matt interrupted. He understood. Of course he did. He reached and carefully ran a finger over a stiff strand of Mark’s hair. “Your hair looks really good,” he smiled. “It always does, though."

Maybe it _was_ just the drink, but Mark felt so warm and cared for. He didn’t care about people asking him stupid shit anymore. He was there with Matt, and they were supporting each other. He could definitely feel the effects of Matt’s bartending, but it was right where he needed to be. Just enough that he didn’t feel so anxious.

“Are these people usually such assholes?” Matt changed the subject himself, resting his hand on Mark’s shoulder.

“Kind of,” Mark answered.

“Why does Travis keep inviting them?”

“He doesn’t. They find out and tag along. Assholes always find their way over.” He shook his head and thought, _Oh. Shit_ , as he felt a spinning sensation.

“Guess so,” Matt sighed. “I’m sorry, man. Seems like you're a magnet for them."

"Yeah," Mark took a sip, even though he knew he should be putting his drink down. "I don't know. That's what I get for being such a sad sack. They don't know how to talk to me so they just ask me about the guy they like better.”

It was getting increasingly difficult to place his words. He suspected he should have declined his third drink after he’d downed the first two so quickly. He wasn't quite as sober as he thought.

“Nah, fuck them. You're the better one. They don't deserve the privilege of talking to you." Matt squeezed his shoulder.

Travis approached and sat on a couch across from them. “You guys look grim over here,” he said, sitting back exhaustedly, then added, “but… oddly cozy."

"Look who finally got out of the kitchen," Mark raised his eyebrows at him, dodging his insinuations. "And you're always on _me_ for working too much. You've been there all night at your own party."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. At least my work tastes good."

"That's the truth," Matt said, tipping his cup at Travis in a cheers-like motion.

Travis gave Mark a long look. "How's it going?"

"It's fine. Better now that I'm not over there." Mark gestured limply to the crowded part of the house.

"You're under no obligation to stay. I really won't be offended if you bail," Travis said. "Maybe let Matt drive, though." He looked up at Matt, who gave him a thumbs up.

"I'm okay, I appreciate it though." Mark settled back in the chair, leaning to the side to press closer to Matt.

Travis nodded. He and Matt started a conversation about working out. Mark tried to listen at first, but quickly zoned out staring at Matt. He looked so heavenly, otherworldly, doing something as simple as engaging in conversation. Mark watched his lined eyes widen when he got particularly excited, his animated expressions, and the way his mouth seemed to take up his entire face when he laughed. Mark knew he was positively beaming at him, but he couldn't be bothered to hide it, even when Matt glanced back at him. He didn’t care. Matt just gave him a bright smile and continued to lean against him, the warmth of his body radiating against Mark.

But then Travis left to continue his rounds, and they were alone again. Matt turned and looked at him.

Matt, with his fucking beautiful eyes. With his lips that looked like they’d be so soft and wonderful to kiss. With that damn choker around his neck that Mark wanted to tug on with his teeth. He shifted in his seat and everything swirled. He was far past tipsy, definitively drunk.

He let his head sway toward Matt, and before his brain could tell him to stop, his face rested gently against Matt’s neck, nuzzling against the black ribbon.

Matt chuckled, “Hey buddy, what’s up?” and placed a hand on the back of Mark’s head.

“You know, this looks… so _so_ good on you,” Mark said, trying his best to form words very precisely. He thought he was doing a pretty damn good job of it.

“Thanks,” Matt scratched lightly through his hair. “You need some water?”

“‘m okay. I’m really good here.” He inhaled against Matt’s neck, the choker brushing his top lip. He could detect the layers of different soaps, cologne, and candle smoke, plus a warm, salty scent that was just him. All of his senses were filled with _Matt_. Closer than he’d ever been. It felt like where he was always supposed to be.

A thought crossed Mark’s mind that he tried to stop, he really did. That ribbon had looked so silky and smooth, and he wondered how it would feel against his lips. It was overwhelmingly close to his mouth. Some part of him was hitting the brakes as hard as he could, but he just wouldn't listen. Maybe it’d be excusable as friendly affection. A little weird, coming from Mark, but mostly fine. The intoxicated part of his mind insisted he had to do it.

He lifted his head just the slightest, his nose dragging against the side of Matt's neck, and pressed a soft kiss onto the ribbon. His top lip met smooth fabric. His bottom lip met warm skin.

Matt’s chest inflated with a sharp, quiet gasp, and deflated with a very small giggle. He gripped the hair on the back of Mark's head, making Mark suck in a breath of his own.

Every sensation went straight to Mark's dick, the alcohol loosening his nerves and threatening to make his want very clear. He pulled off and left a few inches of space between them.

“Okay Markus,” Matt laughed lightly. "Not that I don’t love how cuddly you are when you're drunk, but I’m gonna get you some coffee and something to eat, okay?” He gently pushed Mark’s chest away from him and got up. “I’ll be right back, stay here.”

“Fuck, sorry,” Mark slurred, unsure if he had crossed a line, but covering his bases with an apology anyway.

“You’re okay, it’s fine,” Matt smiled, rubbing his hands over Mark’s shoulders to reassure him. “Don’t worry about it."

Mark thought it was an eternity before Matt came back, even though it was about one minute, tops. Matt handed him a plate of desserts and placed a steaming mug on the table in front of him.

“Thanks. You’re a fuckin’ angel,” Mark said, taking the plate.

Matt joked, “Bet you say that to all the boys who bring you food."

“No. Just you. You’re perfect, fucking love you.” Worried he said too much, he added, “You’re my favorite person to be around.” _Definitely too much. What are you doing?_ "Like, my best friend.”

 _Nailed it. Nice save_. He gave himself a mental high-five. In his inebriated mind, he was convinced that the last phrase somehow made up for everything else and would hide his true feelings.

Matt gave him a wide smile. "You too, man."

Mark wanted to ask which part that applied to, because that was very important, but Matt continued talking.

"You wanna go home when you finish your coffee?"

"You gonna be there?” Mark asked.

Matt laughed. "Yeah, I'll be there for you. Of course."

Mark finished his coffee and desserts, and Matt took him home. He had already started to sober up on the way, and by the time they walked in the door, Mark was tired of being drunk. The swirling wasn’t fun anymore and he was ready to get back to his senses.

He immediately sat down at one of his kitchen stools, folding his arms on the breakfast bar to create a makeshift pillow, where he rested his head.

He heard Matt moving things in the kitchen, then pouring. A glass thudded dully on the counter next to him. “Gotta hydrate. No hangovers here.” Matt sat next to him. His hand splayed wide on Mark’s back. It was a nice contrast to the cold counter under his arms. “Probably should have been bringing you water too, sorry.”

He sounded guilty, like somehow it was his fault that Mark hadn’t been paying attention to how much he’d been drinking. It wasn’t like Matt was expected to know his tolerance level. Mark was a grown-ass man and should have been keeping track of himself.

“Not your fault, don’t worry about it,” Mark dismissed. He raised his head and looked at Matt. Of course, the bastard still looked amazing. Some of his eyeliner had faded and settled in the lines underneath his eyes. It was hot in an artfully trashy way that he suspected only Matt could really pull off.

Mark reached and grabbed the glass, taking a sip. He knew it was all in his head, but the cool water seemed to bring him a bit more clarity.

Matt stood and gave Mark’s back a few pats, then headed down the hallway, leaving Mark to reflect on the night. He’d actually had a decent time, despite a few of his least favorite conversations playing out. He and Matt had each other’s backs, and it was the first time in a long time that Mark didn’t want to leave after talking to only two people. He wasn’t exactly proud of kissing Matt’s neck, and he’d probably want to slap himself every time he remembered it, but it could have been worse. A tiny kiss like that had barely bent the nearly nonexistent margins of their friendship. Hell, it wasn’t too far from the way Matt acted toward him when he was sober.

Mark tilted the glass upward to his mouth, watching the last drops of water slide from the bottom of the cup.

When Matt came back to the kitchen, his face was clean. “You should get to bed,” he told Mark, and approached him again, placing a hand on his forearm to encourage him up. Black flecks clinging between his bottom lashes were the only trace left of his eyeliner.

Mark nodded in agreement and stepped onto the floor. He was stable enough to walk, but Matt seemed to think he needed to help, arm around his waist, leading him. As much as he took pride in being self-sufficient, he wasn’t about to tell Matt to stop holding him.

Matt let go of him once they were through the open doorway. “You need anything else? More water? I can heat up some food Travis pushed on me before we left, if you want. You just hang out in here.”

Mark thought it was cute that Matt wanted to take care of him. He tilted his head. “I’m okay. I’ve been drunk and hungover before, I’ll live.”

“Sorry,” Matt smiled, “I just know how much it sucks to wake up feeling like ass. Better to prevent it than treat it.” He looked at the ceiling for a second. “Alright, I’m gonna go get the air mattress from my car, this is definitely a night for a bed."

“Those things take forever to blow up,” Mark waved his hand dismissively. Matt kind of furrowed his brows like he didn’t understand what he could do about that. “Just stay here."

“What?” Matt looked genuinely confused.

Mark took a breath, trying not to make it sound weird. “If… if you want, you can sleep in here.” He gestured to his room and bed. Evidently, his alcohol-induced bravery hadn’t completely worn off yet.

“I don’t know, you need a bed more than I do right now,” Matt objected, clearly not getting what he meant.

Mark laughed. “No, I mean… there’s plenty of room in here. For both of us. It’s not a big deal.” He suspected Matt didn't have a problem sharing a bed with a friend.

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Okay. Yeah.” He nodded. “That’s not a big deal at all I just wasn’t sure what you… yeah. Okay. I'm gonna go change and brush my teeth, I'll be right back. You sure I can't get you anything?"

Mark watched him, amused. "I'm good. Thanks though."

Matt smiled wide as he left the room.

Mark changed into a t-shirt and boxers, brushed his teeth, and spent a few extra moments splashing water on his face. When he opened the door back to his room, Matt was sitting cross-legged on his bed. He was reading the back cover of a book from Mark's bedside table, wearing a white t-shirt and black boxer-briefs. He glanced up at Mark before returning his gaze to the book.

Mark felt a weight in his chest, seeing Matt sitting there so casually on his king-sized bed. He wanted to see that image every night. It stung to think about the fact that Matt wouldn't be there the next night, that he couldn't wake up and kiss Matt's face before getting out of bed. He turned down the sheets on his side of the bed to slide under them.

Matt followed his lead, setting the book on the nightstand and wiggling underneath the plush comforter and sheets. He laid on his side, facing Mark.

"This bed is exactly what I need right now. Thank you," Matt told him, eyes closed with a serene look on his face.

 _Beautiful boy_ , Mark's brain supplied, unhelpfully.

"For everything, honestly," Matt added. He opened his eyes and fixed Mark with a grateful expression.

"It's really no problem, I have more space than I know what to do with in this house," Mark replied, turning to lay on his side and mirror Matt.

Matt gave a small smile, "I don't mean just your house. I mean over there. I know you didn't really want to go and I kind of roped you into it."

"Oh. Actually, it was the best time I've had there in a while," Mark admitted. He let his hand rest naturally, palm up, next to his head on the pillow.

Matt gave him a doubtful look. "Really? Even with all the assholes?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah, I don't know. It didn't bother me as much this time." He played dumb, but he knew exactly why. His eyelids began to feel heavy as the bed warmed against his body.

"Probably just because I got you hammered," Matt grinned, placing his hand against the side of Mark’s wrist.

"Maybe a little," Mark allowed, then added, “The company definitely helped though.”

Matt settled into the bed and closed his eyes again, then slid his thumb over Mark’s wrist, his hand holding a loose grip around it. “Well I’m happy to provide it whenever you want me around."

Mark wanted to tell him, ‘Always. I always want you around,’ but he simply whispered, “Me too."

Matt’s thumb swept an arc back and forth across his wrist, and that was the last thing Mark remembered before he drifted to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Mark woke gently with curious brightness against his eyelids. He wasn’t used to waking up after the sun was out. There was a weight and a rhythmic flow of air against his chest that paired with the solid form his arm was slung around. He opened his eyes and glanced down carefully, trying not to move too much.

Sure enough, there was Matt, curled up to him. His head rested against Mark’s collarbone, arms folded inward, holding a firm grip on Mark’s wrist. 

Mark could feel Matt pressed against him down to his shins, where one of Matt's legs was tucked between his calves. He considered making an attempt to untangle himself from Matt, but decided against it. He’d take what he was given for as long as he could.

After a couple more minutes, Matt took in a long inhale, squeezing Mark's wrist a little as he woke up. He stayed still for a few seconds, then snuggled closer into Mark’s frame.

“Sorry, I’m a clingy sleeper,” he said, more of an explanation than an apology. His voice was light in tone, but groggily low, rumbling through Mark’s chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark told him, petting over his back and settling to hold him tighter. Matt clearly wasn’t worried though.

The two of them continued to lay together in silence. Mark sank into the embrace. His chest fluttered with just how in love he was with the man in his arms. It was a physical ache, how much he wanted to tell Matt that he adored him, press their lips together, and never let him go. He briefly questioned if it might be the right time to say something about how he felt, but it wasn’t. It was still too risky.

Matt rolled onto his back with another deep breath, letting go of Mark's wrist. He yawned and sat up, leaning his head back in a graceful stretch. Sections of his hair were ruffled from his odd position. He rubbed his hands over his face, then shuffled to the edge of the bed to get up. As he made his way to the bathroom, Mark noticed that his boxer briefs had ridden up his thighs a little, showing off toned muscle and drawing Mark's eyes to the contour of his ass.

Mark tried not to be too obvious about staring. The bathroom door closed on his view, and he took the opportunity to stretch out for a second and shake the numbness out of his wrist. A few taps of dull pressure thudded in his head, threatening to become a headache if he didn’t get some caffeine to feed his addiction and some water to keep the hangover away. Other than that, he actually felt great. He had fallen asleep easily and slept through not only the night, but some of the morning, too. Plus, he woke up with the most amazing person in the world cuddled up to him. The day was off to a pretty good start.

He wondered if it would make things more or less weird if he apologized again for what he did at Travis’ house. It didn’t seem like Matt cared. If he’d made Matt uncomfortable, he probably wouldn’t have even gotten in his bed in the first place. As far as he could tell, they were still okay. Bringing it up might only cause the conversation he wasn’t quite ready for.

“I didn’t take you for a bath guy,” Matt expressed as he opened the bathroom door, holding a glass jar of purple bath salt that Mark had been using as decor. It was eucalyptus-lavender scented.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “I’m not. Someone gave me that as a gift and I didn’t know what the hell to do with it so it's just decoration now.”

Matt opened the jar and held it to his nose. “It's really nice, you should try it out.” He continued waving the jar under his nose. "That bathtub is gigantic, dude. You don't use it?"

The master bathroom had a separate shower and bathtub, so Mark always figured it was too much of an extra effort to take a bath. Plus, sitting in hot water alone with his thoughts wasn’t really his idea of fun. “I don’t think I’ve used it once since I moved in. Just not really my thing.”

Matt nodded understandingly. "Man, if I had a tub like that I’d be in it 24/7, seriously. I live for baths, it’s like, the best place to meditate."

Mark had found that he wasn't a fan of meditation outside of yoga practice. Focusing on his breathing tended to ground him nicely, but there was only so long he could do that alone before his mind started to wander, and that was rarely good.

“You can use it whenever you want, might as well get some use out of it,” Mark shrugged, sitting up in bed and smoothing a hand over his hair, self-conscious upon realizing that Matt was seeing him at his least attractive time of day.

“You’re not giving me any reason to ever leave this house, you know that, right?”

Mark just grinned as Matt opened the bedroom door and walked down the hallway. When he couldn’t see him anymore, Mark got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

When he walked to the kitchen to make some much-needed coffee, he heard music playing from the guest bathroom, along with the rainy patter of the shower running. This was the first time he'd heard Matt listening to music while he showered. Maybe he was getting more comfortable in his own routine in Mark's house.

He flipped up the lid of his coffeemaker, took a filter out of the package, and fit it into the basket. After unscrewing the lid of the airtight container he kept coffee grounds in, he counted out the scoops for a full pot, plus a little extra to keep it strong. He took the empty pot out of its place and brought it over to the sink, twisting the cold water handle and watching the water rush into it. The dull pressure in his head nagged at him, starting to intensify.

When water filled the pot, he turned off the faucet and poured the water into the back tank of the coffeemaker. Despite the potential headache drawing attention to itself, he was taking the time to enjoy every small moment of his morning. Even the process of making coffee seemed like a pleasant routine instead of a chore. It must have been a side-effect of being relatively well-rested for once.

He fit the pot back in its place and pressed the 'start' button on the machine. He picked up his phone and stood with his back against the counter, scrolling through social media just fast enough to barely read the headlines of articles people shared. The gurgling sound of the machine began, followed by the increasingly strong aroma that Mark truly lived for. Just the smell of coffee made him feel more awake.

In a couple of minutes, the incoming call notification appeared on Mark's phone, accompanied by generic, melodic ringing. He glanced up to see the caller, finding only an unfamiliar number. It was Saturday morning. If it was important, they'd leave a message or call back. He sent it straight to voicemail and continued scrolling.

A minute later, he got another notification.

'1 New Voicemail'

Nervousness bubbled up through him. Sales callers didn’t usually leave messages. People he actually knew didn't even leave him messages. It could have been some relative or distant friend. Either way, it stressed him out.

He navigated to the message, tapped the 'play' icon, and held the phone to his ear.

“Hey Mark…” 

As soon as the voice began, Mark’s chest constricted. That voice saying his name. Nostalgia mixed with sickness mixed with a chilling, clawing hatred that he thought he had gotten rid of. He immediately pressed the 'home' button on his phone to stop the message from continuing.

His chest felt tighter than it ever had, like someone was physically squeezing his heart as it beat faster and faster. He swallowed and set his phone on the counter, closing his eyes and trying to guess what Tom could possibly want and how he had the fucking audacity to call.

The speculations cycled in his head— what if he wanted to try to make up? No fucking way would Mark do that to himself again. He wasn’t interested anymore. If Tom didn’t want to get back together, Mark didn’t even want to be his friend. But what if something was wrong and he needed help? No. He would call someone else. Mark wasn’t sure if he truly would or should care if that were the case, and didn’t want to waste the mental energy having a moral debate about it with himself. What if he wanted to explain himself and what the fuck he’d been up to that was more important? Or where exactly Mark went wrong, if it was his fault? No, fuck it. It didn't matter. Mark didn’t want answers anymore, he didn’t want anything from Tom ever again. He was just done. He needed to be done.

His heart hammered a hard pulse and he felt too hot. His face started to dampen with sweat. His throat was tight with frustration, and he wished he had never opened the message in the first place, because now he couldn’t forget it. He should have changed his number. He should have done anything to avoid this happening. He pressed the home button again, lighting up the screen. It was blank, aside from the time and his lock screen picture— a serene shot of a cloudy mountain range he'd taken years ago on a hike with Travis. It was a small relief that there was nothing else, of course, but he knew the message was still there.

“Fuck,” he sighed. He had to listen to it. He could have just deleted it. He probably should have, but he had to know. The speculation would have driven him mad. He tapped on the screen, navigated to the message again, pressed 'play,' and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hey Mark. It’s me… uh, you know, Tom.” An awkward laugh paused his voice. It turned Mark’s stomach. "You probably don't have this number. Um, I’m gonna be in the area soon, and… y’know, god knows you don't owe it to me, but if you wanna… I don’t know, shit, go get lunch or something, just… get back to me...”

“Fuck,” Mark repeated as Tom’s voice took another pause. Pressure built behind his eyes. He had been through this already. He knew how it would go. Tom would try to make nice, act like it’s going to be different, and then get right back to his bullshit. Not that Mark was even remotely interested in any of it. Maybe he  _did_  just want to be friends. The kindness in Tom’s voice tugged at him a little, but he knew absolutely no good would come from talking to him again. Some of the worst moments in his life were directly attributed to Tom, and it didn’t matter if he was trying to atone or be better now. The part of Mark’s life that involved him needed to be over. Completely.

“It just, um, would be cool to hang out again. Hope you’re good.” Silence.

Mark pulled the phone away from his ear and saw that the message had ended.

“Hope I’m fucking— Hope I’m  _good_?” Mark’s voice increased in volume as he spoke to his phone. Tom’s hope was likely genuine. He believed that Tom hoped he was good, but the phrase boiled a hard anger inside of him. Tom didn’t get to ruin his life twice, do absolutely nothing to make sure he was okay for more than two years, and then try to act like he cared. 

He knew what Tom meant. Deep down, he was a good guy. If he wasn’t, Mark never would have loved him in the first place. Maybe he was trying to better himself now, but he was right— Mark didn’t owe him a fucking thing. For a second Mark thought that maybe something like this could finally get him over Tom, like they could meet up, talk it over and lay it all out, and perhaps be cordial while going their separate ways. He knew better though. Nothing would go that smoothly. Tom’s intentions sounded nice enough, but Mark couldn’t help but hear his own cynical interpretation: ‘I know I fucked you over and made you miserable for a second time when you put your trust in me again. I didn’t really care about you then, but I feel guilty about it and I hope that you can maybe forgive me for my shitty behavior so I don’t feel as bad. Hope you haven’t completely destroyed yourself yet, you pitiful jackass.'

“Fuck off.” He slammed his phone down on the counter and slid to sit on the floor. Rage, phantom echoes of devastation, and a little bit of fear filled him, replacing every single other feeling in his mind. Pressing his palms against his now aching forehead, he closed his eyes, the squeezing in his chest continuing to draw attention to itself as he became short of breath. Sharp pains started to beat through the tightness, and his fear began to amplify as he registered the pain.

_Shit, what the fuck? Is this a heart attack? Is this fucking asshole going to kill me? Fucking GREAT._

He directly addressed his heart, _You couldn’t have picked a better time to crap out on me, huh? You’re gonna make this motherfucker my last memory on this stupid fucking garbage planet just when things were alright?_

He felt dizzy and unreal. He opened his eyes to try to ground himself, but the blurs at the edges of his vision only took him further out of reality. The bright light of the morning diffused into an unpleasant haze. The bubbling of the coffeemaker became muffled and distant, and he thought he might be about to pass out. Anxiety took precedent, now flooding over his anger. He became disconnected to himself except for the awful feeling in his chest keeping him anchored to his body. Waves of resentment and anxiety washed over him again and again. 

It dawned on him that he knew what this was. He’d had panic attacks before, but not this bad. They weren’t usually caused by a particular event, either. Even though he knew what was happening, it didn’t stop him from worrying that he might panic himself to death this time.

He told himself to calm down, go get some water and a dose of Xanax, but he couldn’t stand up.

“Mark?” A faraway, urgent sound. 

A confusing mix of relief and further unease twisted in Mark's lungs. He tried to act like everything was normal. Like he was just curled up in a ball on the kitchen floor for no reason. Matt didn’t need to see this. He braved a look up and regretted it as the movement brought another wave through him. He heaved out a short breath.

“Hey, hey, what’s up?” Matt was on the floor next to him so fast that his knees slid on the kitchen tile. The quick movement made Mark jump. “Shit, sorry! I'm sorry. Tell me what’s going on, if you can. Let me help you.”

Mark’s shallow breathing rang in his own ears. He kept his eyes closed. “It’s… just a panic attack, probably."

“Just a—“ He cut himself off with a sigh, like he wasn’t having any of Mark’s tough act bullshit, but wasn't going to waste time scolding him. “What can I do? What do you need?"

He wanted to tell Matt to go away, to not worry about it, he’d be fine— even if he didn’t believe that himself. He didn’t want to drag Matt down with him, but he knew he would try to help no matter what. “Um… Xanax in the far left cabinet?”

“How much?” Matt asked as he stood and walked into the kitchen.

“Half. They’re cut already, so… one, technically? Whatever. I don’t care just give me whatever I’ll take the whole fucking bottle right now.” Mark rushed irritably, squeezing his eyes shut as he was hit with a lurch of overall bad feeling.

The pills rattled, followed by water rushing from the sink. When Matt came back a few seconds later, he handed Mark the glass and half a pill, then kneeled back down beside him.

Mark slid his feet out on the floor, unfolding to take the pill and a few sips of water. He knew it was going to be a while before it kicked in, and he still wasn’t certain he was going to be okay. This one was bad. Maybe the worst he’d ever had. He’d never been unable to get up before. He would do anything to make it stop, to make everything stop.

“What are you feeling? Can you describe it to me?"

Mark took a second to take inventory of everything he physically felt. It was just a giant spiral of awful. He tried to focus and explain. "I’m— my chest hurts, I can’t breathe, I don’t know if I’m fucking… going to freak myself out to death I just… I feel like I’m fading away from myself.” He panted through his words. His mood shifted from tense to terrified once again. Tears welled underneath his eyes. “And also like I drank ten espresso shots." His hands trembled as he set the glass of water down beside him.

“Okay. Can you look at me? Is it okay if I touch you?"

Mark turned toward Matt and nodded, seeing Matt blurred through teary eyes and tunnel vision.

“I’m gonna get close, alright? I want you to breathe slow.” He kneed closer, gently placing a hand behind Mark's head. He leaned his forehead against Mark’s and inhaled slowly. 

Mark tried to match his breath, but couldn’t get enough air. He swallowed dry and tried again, taking in a little more air and blowing it out quickly with a sobbing huff.

“Breathe with me, baby. You’re okay,” Matt spoke quietly. He rubbed his fingers at the back of Mark's head in a soothing motion that helped Mark feel connected to him. "Just stay here with me. Focus.” Even through the steady encouragement, he couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. He took in a long breath.

Mark followed as he inhaled deep, then exhaled with him, warm air surrounding his face. He concentrated on the rhythm of Matt’s breath, the touch of his hands, his wet hair sticking to Mark’s forehead, the pressure and closeness of his face tilted against Mark's, the breeze created by them both. Matt’s signature scent filled his senses, stronger and clearer than usual from his shower. It didn't even have that hint of smokiness yet. Instead of the thrill of attraction it usually gave him, it calmed him. It was familiar, reassuring, real. His mind gradually started to quiet down as he singled out the sensations and took one breath at a time.

After several breaths, Matt pulled back a little to look at him, eyes searching Mark’s. His fingers traced idly at the nape of his neck. His eyes were glistening with worry, yet hopeful.

As he watched Matt’s eyes check in with his, Mark became positive that he was going to get out of it. He was going to be okay. Maybe it was just his medication kicking in early, but Matt’s eyes, a sight that usually made him more nervous, now felt like a porch light left on for him. A signal that someone was waiting for him to come home safe.

Clarity already started to come back to him. The tightness and pain in his chest had mostly subsided, leaving slight twinges every few seconds instead. He was exhausted, but it was the fastest he’d ever gotten through something like this, even though it was one of the worst.

Once his breathing was steady, Matt settled beside him and wrapped an arm around his waist. He slipped behind him a little so part of his chest supported Mark’s back. “This okay?”

Mark nodded. Feeling Matt’s body heat reminded him where he was. It kept him in the present. He kept his head tilted toward Matt, but closed his eyes.

Matt pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. His lips stayed against him as he spoke. "I got you. I’m here.”

The words buzzed through Mark’s head. He took in a shaky breath and wished he could have been more aware in that moment. He was still a little cloudy, and he was too tired to even have the usual emotional acrobatics in response to Matt. He just knew that he felt safe and stable, and that was all that mattered. He slumped against him and rested a hand on his thigh.

“How you feelin’ now?" Matt asked after a few seconds, his nose still against Mark's hair.

“Little better," Mark answered. "Sorry you had to deal with this mess," he added in a lame attempt at being self-deprecating to lighten the mood. “You shouldn’t have to see this."

Matt’s face moved away from his head to look at him. "Mark, don't..." Mark wished he hadn't said anything. His tone was heartbreaking. "You don't have to be sorry for this at all. I'm sorry that you had to go through it. This isn't a burden on me. All I care about is making sure you're okay."

A surge of emotion hit Mark. He furrowed his brows and swallowed against the tears that threatened to fall. He couldn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Matt wrapped both arms around him, and Mark slid downward to rest his head back against Matt's chest. "I don't know why you think you're not worth caring about, but fuck that. I'm always gonna be here whenever you need me.” One of his hands came up to smooth over Mark’s hair.

Remembering all the reasons he felt that way and trying to fathom just how kind and caring Matt was, Mark's eyes flooded over as his chest tensed. He let out a tiny, pathetic sound that was just loud enough to be embarrassing. 

Matt spoke softly, wiping a teary streak off Mark’s face. “Did this whole thing just come out of nowhere or did something happen that freaked you out?” His lips came to rest at the top of Mark’s head, not quite another kiss, but a doting gesture nonetheless.

Mark sniffed and took a few seconds to calm himself enough to speak. Another tear rolled hotly down his cheek, and he inhaled to steady his voice. “Tom called.” He heard the congestion in his own words.

“Shit,” Matt breathed.

"Yeah. I didn't answer. He left a message. He wanted to meet up and I just got so… pissed and nervous and then I just… I don’t know. Felt like I was fucking dying.”

“This might be a stupid question but… are you gonna see him?” Matt asked, and Mark could tell he was trying to stay neutrally curious, even though everyone in the world knew it’d be a bad idea.

“Fuck no,” Mark scoffed. “I don’t want to see him. All I did was listen to a fucking voicemail and this happened. There’s no way I want to see him in person.”

Matt was quiet for a few moments. “That seems like a good decision,” he replied, nodding a little. “I’m not trying to force you to discuss anything you don’t want to, but if you wanna talk about him and y'know... you guys, I’m listening.”

He knew Matt was curious, but trying not to be insensitive about it. Mark wasn’t sure what exactly he knew. He figured it was as good a time as ever to talk about it though. Maybe it’d be good to get it out.

“Alright,” he started, “but after this, I think we need to have at least a month’s worth of weekends where I’m not crying on you."

“Fair deal,” Matt smiled. “How ‘bout I get you some coffee first?”

“Please,” Mark responded, sitting up to let Matt get up.

Matt stood, then opened the cabinet where Mark’s mugs resided. 

“Why don’t you go sit on the couch?” He suggested as he set the mugs down to pour. “I’ll be right there.”

Mark got up slowly, wincing a little at the pounding pressure in his head that begged for peace and caffeine. Matt gave him a worried look, then turned back to the coffee as Mark turned to walk to the couch. He took the few steps to get there, then settled in a corner, leaning his head back onto the soft fabric.

Matt rounded the breakfast bar into the living room shortly after, carefully passing Mark the handle of a steaming mug.

“Thank you,” Mark told him, barely waiting until Matt’s fingers were off the handle before taking a sip. He should have let it cool, but he didn’t really care. It was too hot, but his entire upper body relaxed with delight at the familiar relief.

After sitting on the opposite side of the couch— which Mark found odd and more distressing than he liked to admit— Matt patted his thigh. “Come here.”

Mark squinted at him. Did he want Mark to sit on his lap? Even for Matt, that was a bit much. “Um, should I read you my Christmas list?"

“Hey, if that’s what you want, I’m game,” Matt laughed. “If you’d rather straddle me while you tell me your problems, I’m cool with that too.”

The fact that a small flame lit inside of Mark at the suggestion was somewhat comforting. He was returning to his regular gamut of weird feelings.

“Just lay down, let me be your therapy couch,” Matt continued, trying to clarify. He patted his leg again.

Mark was going to point out that they were, in fact, on a couch, but he wasn’t going to deny the offer. He moved closer, then turned with careful consideration to his coffee, settling to lie his head back on Matt’s lap and hang his legs over the side of the couch. He lifted his head slightly and sipped at his coffee, satisfied with the angle that allowed him to do so, then smiled shyly up at Matt. 

Matt returned a kind grin and ran his fingers gently over Mark’s hair in silent support. He held his own coffee mug in the other hand and drank from it gingerly, then cleared his throat before speaking. "So tell me exactly why I hate this guy."

After another sip of coffee, Mark worked up the energy to begin. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Where do I even start?”


	13. Chapter 13

Matt’s hand had been petting a trail from Mark's hair to his jaw. Mark's eyes were closed, and when he opened them, he saw Matt looking at him. The other man's eyes quickly darted away.

"I don't think you're stupid for taking him back," Matt said. "It makes sense. You loved him and you thought something else was the problem, and it's not like the addiction was in his control, really.”

He’d told Matt everything. Between explaining both breakups, the long periods of waiting to see if Tom would ever come back or if he was even still alive, and going in-depth on the emotional toll it took on Mark, some of it was more honest than what he'd told Travis. He was proud of himself for only crying one more time. Matt however, cried pretty hard about three separate times, no matter how subtle he tried to be about it.

“Right," Mark conceded, "but I don't know. If this is how he is, I should've been able to see it coming. That he’d leave or whatever."

"You couldn't have known. Maybe it wasn't how he was all along. Do you think his addiction changed him?"

Mark took a few seconds to think about it. "Maybe. I don't know him anymore. I don't know what else I could've done."

Matt shrugged and ran a thumb over the rough stubble growing in on Mark's chin. It was nice. "You did what you could. Sometimes there's nothing you can do to change it. That doesn't mean that you did anything wrong or that you aren't good enough."

Mark tried not to flinch at how accurately Matt had nailed his feelings.

"Just because one shitty person stopped caring about you, doesn't mean nobody ever should or will care about you." He rested his hand against Mark's neck. “Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

Mark shrugged. “I’m not that great. All I ever do is bum everyone out."

“Hey, no,” Matt insisted softly. 

Mark clenched his jaw and stared into the kitchen. He couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

“Mark, I need you to look at me and believe me.”

He sighed and met Matt’s eyes. They were unexpectedly fierce and serious. The intensity spooked him a little.

“People care about you. I know you feel bad about how much Travis helped you, but he was happy to be there for you. I’m happy to be here for you. We fucking love you. Your emotions aren't an inconvenience. You don't have to act strong all the time. There’s nothing wrong with being upset.”

It was the scolding kindness in Matt's tone that made Mark's throat tighten. He was so determined to make Mark understand that he was loved.

“I love you guys too,” Mark whispered. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t sure if he could accept that he wasn’t an inconvenience.

Matt’s face softened, smiling a little bit, then he furrowed his brows. He swallowed, looking like he might cry again.

There wasn’t anything else either of them could say. Mark turned his face toward Matt’s hand, and Matt sat back.

They stayed quiet, content with each other’s wordless company for a long while until Matt had to go to work in the afternoon.

___________________________

Monday evening, Mark received a text from Travis, informing him that he’d be coming over and making dinner. It wasn’t so much a request as it was a statement.

He sat on his couch just scrolling through his phone when he heard a key in the door. He rolled his eyes and smiled at his friend’s lack of a knock.

“Hey, I went ahead and got you some groceries,” Travis called as the door cracked open. He walked to the kitchen and set his reusable bags on the counter. 

“I have food,” Mark replied, not bothering to get up from the couch just yet.

Travis opened his pantry and refrigerator and whistled. “Wow, it’s almost like a real human lives here.”

Mark shrugged and got up. “I’ve been cooking a little bit more.”

“Of course you have.” Travis raised an eyebrow and began unpacking his bags. 

Mark watched as various foods and sauces paraded onto his counter. He wasn't sure what that meant, so he moved past it and voiced his guilt about not hanging out with Travis. “I’ve been meaning to call you, sorry it’s been a while.”

His friend smirked and turned to grab a pot out of the cabinet. “It’s fine, I know you’re busy with your new boyfriend. It’s better than bailing on me to read or whatever.”

“Aw, are you jealous? Travis, it’s a little late, you really missed your chance,” Mark teased.

Travis let out a barking laugh and turned on the faucet to fill the pot. “God, Matt’s really rubbing off on you.”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Mark mumbled quietly, hoping the running water would mute him.

“Gross,” Travis frowned as he turned off the faucet. “Speaking of which, when were you planning on telling me that you're in love with him?"

“I— I'm not. I kind of like him, it's not a huge thing," he lied, trying to seem way cooler about it than he actually was. 

Travis just gave him a look and started breaking a bulb of garlic apart.

"We just get along really well. I like being around him and he's cute, it's whatever."

The accusatory glare steadily burned a hole through him.

"Alright fine, I want to kiss him every time I look at him and I feel like I'm in pain when he's not around. Is that what you want to hear?"

Travis' stare broke with a gentle smile. 

Mark continued, knowing that the floodgate was opened. “When he looks at me I think I might faint. He's fucking gorgeous. He cares about my stupid sad ass for some reason. He drives me totally crazy and at the same time he makes me feel like nothing is wrong in the world. Also, I would give up this entire house to suck his dick."

“Woah, okay." Travis held a hand up. "Thank you for your honesty.”

Mark sat at the bar and rested his face on his hand. “I’m fucking in love with him, dude. It’s ridiculous. It’s like I’m thinking about him every single second of the day.”

“Do you think he’s into you?”

Mark shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s just kind of affectionate in general, so I’m trying not to read into it with false hope.”

“Kind of seems like he might be," Travis suggested as he chopped.

Interesting. This was good. Another perspective. "What makes you say that?" He asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"He's around like, all the time, isn’t he? He also hangs all over you like you're married."

"Doesn't he just... do that though?"

Travis tilted his head back and forth. "He's... affectionate, but unless he's stepped up just how little personal space he gives people, it just seems like he  _really_  likes touching you. Specifically."

"Well," Mark found himself giving Matt the benefit of the doubt, “we're pretty close and we did sort of a... partner yoga thing? Kind of broke down some personal space boundaries."

"You guys did partner yoga?"

Mark nodded.

Travis snorted, then shook his head.

"What?"

"I'm just imagining you trying to keep your cool while the dude you have a huge boner for is pressed up against you," Travis chuckled, showing the silver caps on his teeth. “That’s kind of intense. He should know how intimate that is."

“It was. It was amazing," Mark groaned. "I don't know, man. You know how he is, if he feels the same way he would've made it clear by now, right?"

"Seems like he has."

"I mean like, said something."

“Maybe he’s not positive you feel the same way. Have _you_ made it clear at all?”

Mark scoffed. “I’ve been trying not to. I don’t want to freak him out.”

Travis returned the scoff, then seemed to shift the subject. “Have you talked about Tom?”

“Yeah. A couple of days ago and just a little bit before that. I kind of had a panic attack in front of him, so that was probably attractive.”

“Um, let’s come back to that later, because you need to tell me about that. But depending on how you’ve talked about it, he probably doesn't want to take advantage of you when you're vulnerable or something,” Travis pointed out.

That would make sense. Mark wasn’t exactly the spitting image of a stable person. “I guess so. I mean, even I don't think I’m ready for a relationship, so why would he make a move? I’m not making myself available.”

Travis rolled his eyes. “So you want him to make a move, but you don’t want to be with him?”

Mark scowled. “I do! I want to, but I don’t know if I’m in the right place right now."

“I know it takes a different amount of time for everyone, but if you’re so into Matt, what’s the hold up? Yeah, what happened with Tom was big and I know it messed you up, but this would be so good for you.”

Mark was quiet. He knew his protest would sound way too pathetic. 

“Seriously. I respect it if you really think you’re not ready, but why do you think that?”

He wouldn’t get it. Mark understood what he was saying. It made sense, but Matt was so important to him that he didn’t want to take the chance that he’d fuck it up. Even if that meant that he had to keep pining for him without getting what he wanted. He didn’t think Travis could understand, but he tried to summarize it. 

“I don’t know if I can survive breaking my own fucking heart again.”

Travis put his knife down and placed his hands on the counter. Mark looked at the floor, knowing he was about to get a lecture.

“I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you that it’s not you. Tom’s an asshole. You know it, I know it, he knows it, everyone who’s ever met him knows it. And you? You deserve way better than that. I’m sorry that he fucked you up so badly, but I can’t sit back and watch you just cycle through different levels of misery because you’re not letting yourself be happy. This is totally in your hands now. You’re happier just hanging out with Matt than I've seen you in ages. You can't just dismiss it and tell yourself it won't work out."

Mark grumbled. “I'm happy with him right now, though. Why push it?”

“Why _not_ push it? It’s pretty likely that he’s into you. The only reason you’re afraid of going for it is that you’re afraid of being hurt in the future? Do you really think he’d do that to you?”

“No, but I didn’t think Tom would do that to me either.”

Travis was quiet for a second. Mark knew it was a good point. He dared Travis to counter it.

“Isn’t the chance that it’ll work out worth it? Look, I get what you’re saying. To be totally honest — and this is just my observation, I could be wrong — you guys aren’t even together, and he’s more excited about you than Tom ever acted. He is so happy to be around you. Think about how good he'd treat you if you were together."

Mark didn't have a reply. He  _had_ thought about that. A lot. Travis wasn't exactly one to exaggerate or lie, so if he had noticed Matt acting like he was into him, that was… something.

"Tell you what, let's all go to lunch and I'll scope it out more, see what the situation is."

"What are you, a matchmaker?"

"I just want to see! It's been a long time since I've been somebody's wingman.” He shrugged, then mumbled, “And I want to see you happy, man.” Travis always acted cool, but right then, he just seemed really excited about Mark’s love life. It was pretty cute.

They agreed to meet up the next Saturday after Matt's class. Mark watched Travis's ink-covered hands as he made Pad Thai and demanded more details. He wanted to know everything from the first time they talked in class to every little thing Mark had sweat over to every sweet moment that made Mark want to hug Matt for the rest of his life. While it was strange to finally be completely gushing over Matt to someone, Travis was engaged, encouraging, and oddly excited.

When Travis left, Mark couldn't believe they’d spent hours talking about his crush on Matt. He felt a little giddy, gossiping about the boy he liked to one of his best friends. Travis had suggested that Mark flirt back with Matt a little bit, see what would happen and take it slow until he felt more comfortable. He wasn’t convinced that would work, but he promised to think about it.

He was cleaning up in the kitchen when his phone rang. In the back of his mind, a little bit of panic grew, but when he glanced at the screen, he saw that it was Matt.

“Hey man, what’s up?” he answered, bringing the phone to his ear. Matt was more of a texter than anything else.

“People are such fuckin’ assholes,” Matt lamented, forgoing the greeting.

“What happened?” Mark couldn’t tell if it was a mild disturbance or if he should be prepared to hear something more serious.

“Someone switched out of my class today, which happens. It’s usually whatever, nothing personal, But this girl I’ve been teaching for years came up to me after my afternoon class and told me that she loves how I teach and that she enjoys the class a lot, but she has to switch out. I expected her to tell me that she got a new job and can’t make it to my times anymore, but no. It’s way more ridiculous than that.” Matt paused, presumably waiting for an acknowledgement.

“What did she say?” Mark asked, settling to lay on the couch and listen.

“Her husband doesn’t like that I’m the teacher. All this time he assumed the teacher was a woman. If she wasn't comfortable being taught by a dude, I'd get that, I’d totally understand. But it’s just this dickweed bossing her around. I tried to be as polite as possible, but I said it was bullshit, and that she shouldn’t have to change anything if she doesn’t want to. I suggested that he come in and talk to me, see that I’m not teaching an orgy class or some shit.”

Mark couldn’t help but laugh.

Matt continued, “I guess when he found out her teacher was a dude, he probably pictured some handsome stud or whatever—“

“You don’t consider yourself a handsome stud?” Mark interrupted, braver than he’d be without the barrier of the phone.

“Should I?” Matt's smirk was audible.

Mark made a noncommittal noise, letting a wide grin cross his face that he knew made him look like a lovestruck teenager, then said, "I wouldn’t say you _shouldn't_."

“You’re not helping my point,” Matt giggled. Mark wished he could have seen his face. “So before my last class, he comes to see me. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was a total fucking asshole. He acted like I was trying to fuck his wife just by existing, and I was like, ‘listen dude, I’m just doing my job, I’ve talked to her maybe two times,’ but he basically told me he doesn’t let her hang out with any men. It's complete bullshit, what the fuck is that? _Let_  her? Fuck that. I told him to stop being a controlling dick, and—“

“Oof,” Mark interjected.

“I know. I know. I shouldn’t have said it, but it was true. Obviously he didn’t like that, so he just said ‘fuck you, stay away from my wife,’ and left. I was about to call someone up and find a place for this girl to run away to so she didn’t have to deal with his shit anymore. I told Vanessa to keep an eye on her since she switched into her class.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Mark asked, a little unsettled just thinking about all of it.

“No. Well, I guess if they don’t tell me, then maybe. But god, what a fucking prick. I kept thinking about it during class and getting pissed off and worried about what kind of shit she has to deal with on a daily basis.” Matt sighed heavily. "I need to go home and sit in a bath.”

Mark felt for him. “You could... come over here and take a bath. If you want. Travis stopped by and made way too much food, as usual, so you wouldn't have to worry about dinner either,” he offered.

Matt cooed joyfully, like he hadn’t even considered that. “I so don’t feel like figuring out dinner, and I will absolutely take you up on that magnificent bathtub. I'll be over in ten.”

“See you,” Mark laughed.

“Bye.”

As soon as he ended the call, Mark headed to his bathroom. It would take Matt about ten minutes to get there. 

He turned on the tub faucet and adjusted the temperature until it felt right. _Little bit hotter, shit, no, too hot, a little cooler._

As he searched his cabinets and closets for every candle he had, he piled them up in his left arm, wondering when he'd amassed so many despite never using them. He placed them on the bathroom counter and arranged them by height, then lit them with a long-handled lighter he found in a junk drawer. He turned off the lights and looked at his arrangement. 

It looked weird and kind of eerie, like some sort of sacrificial altar. 

It was perfect. 

He moved a few smaller tealights to the edge of the bathtub, where Matt's feet would be if he were sitting in it. Several different scents began to waft around the room. Generic vanilla became predominant among them. He sprinkled a little bit of salt in the bath and swirled it with his hand, watching the water tint just slightly. Eucalyptus and lavender joined the aroma. Setting the jar back on the side of the tub, he thought this was a little bit too much. 

But then again, it was Matt. He'd love this shit. Plus, Mark felt like he owed it to him for everything Matt had done for him.

As he turned off the faucet and gazed into the water, the dim candlelight transforming his bathroom into something much more magical, he could really see the appeal of a bath. Like this, it was almost romantic. Matt wasn't even there, and he was giving Mark new appreciation for things.

The muffled crack of the door opening alerted him to Matt’s presence. He made his way out of his room.

“Hey, food’s ready whenever you want it,” he declared, stopping at the end of the hallway.

Matt walked past Mark and headed into what was essentially his room to drop his bag. He looked exhausted. “Awesome, thank you and thank Travis for me."

“I wanna show you something first,” Mark told him, nodding toward his own room.

Matt raised an eyebrow, “I know how to use a bathtub, I think I can figure it out,” he chuckled, but followed Mark down the hall anyway.

Mark led him to the closed bathroom door, opening it and stepping aside.

Matt gave him a suspicious look that faltered as he got closer to the door, undoubtedly noticing the candlelight. He stepped into the bathroom and Mark watched his eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

He turned to Mark. “Holy fucking shit, wow,” he repeated.

A little bashful about his efforts, Mark just replied, “I just… uh, I don’t know, figured it’d be best to jump right in, you know?”

“Dude. DUDE.” His face was entirely in disbelief. He stepped toward Mark and pulled him into a full-body hug. Chest, hips, and thighs all pressed against Mark’s. His arms squeezed tight around Mark’s back, one hand coming up to steady the back of his head as he pressed a hard kiss to Mark's cheek. “God, this is perfect. You’re fucking amazing,” he all but moaned.

He leaned all his weight on Mark, hanging on him. His other hand ran down Mark’s lower back with a light touch that gave him a twitch below the belt. Mark scolded himself and sighed into the embrace before preparing to step out of it.

As Matt started to pull away, he slid his hand to the side of Mark’s face and kissed his cheek again, this time so close to the space between his ear and jaw that Mark had a hard time staying on his feet and not melting to the ground. Matt essentially nuzzled at his face before stepping back, his hand still holding Mark’s jaw, a couple of fingers tracing just underneath. His eyes roamed Mark’s face.

 _What the fuck are you waiting for?_ he thought, unsure if it was directed at himself or at Matt.

Mark was both in heaven and in hell at the same time. He could feel the spark, both of them barely holding back, but always stopping just short. Matt’s lips were always a little too far away. His words hovered in a purgatory space that defied any category Mark tried to place their relationship in. To say it was torturous was an understatement, but Mark couldn’t deny that he loved every minute of it.

 _Kiss me, please fucking kiss me, I want you to, I need you to_ , he tried to channel his thoughts to Matt, hoping somehow it would work. He couldn’t make himself make a move.

“Fuck, seriously, I can’t believe you. This is so perfect.” Matt shook his head, crossed his arms, and turned to stare out over the bathtub.

“Glad it fits your standards,” Mark breathed, relieved from the broken tension but wishing it had ended differently. “I’ll let you get to it. I’ll be hanging out in the living room grading some stuff.” He started to turn toward the door.

“You’re not gonna join me?” Matt asked as he took his shirt off. 

Mark did a ridiculously obvious double-take and suspected his soul left his body for a brief moment, then was certain it did when Matt pushed the waistband of his pants down, not caring at all that he was still there. He tried not to stare or even look at all. His voice was stuck. The red band of Matt’s jock strap sat low on his hips, suspending the black cup covering his cock. Mark’s brain could only form a stream of  _Fuck you, don’t do this to me, please, fuck, do anything to me, I’m begging you._

He smiled and pointedly looked away. “You know damn well we both can’t fit in that bathtub,” he managed, and laughed a little more awkwardly than he meant to, turning fully to the door because he knew he couldn’t handle any more of it. If the lights were on, it’d be completely evident that he was bright red. So much for flirting back.

“Thank you, Markus,” Matt called in a sing-songy tone as Mark closed the door behind him.

Mark walked back into the hallway and leaned back against the wall. He let his head hit the wall and closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered. The shuddering thrill continued to run through his body as his mind kept flashing to that image. No wonder Matt’s ass always looked fantastic in his yoga pants. 

“Stop," he told himself, lightly bumping his head back before heading down the hall to get some work done.

He stopped to grab a pen from the guest room. He paused in the doorway after retrieving his pen, taking in just how much the room looked like it belonged to Matt. The mattress was still inflated from the night before, grey sheets rumpled and draping over the edge of the bed, which was just slightly too small for Mark’s spare king-sized sheets. An uneven arc of what could only be described as cosmetics was arranged on the desk, and there was a pile of clothes in an inconspicuous corner next to Matt's bags.

As he sat at the kitchen bar, trying to read an essay on standardized testing, he couldn’t keep his mind from wandering. The bands hugging the curves of Matt’s hips, how the elastic would stretch under Mark’s hands, running his hands over Matt’s ass and pulling him close, turning him around. 

“Fuck,” he whispered again, knowing this absolutely wasn’t going to make his life any easier.


	14. Chapter 14

Tuesday morning, Mark was already anxious about the day ahead. He had totally forgotten that he had to do open house presentations that night. It was kind of a mid-semester overview where he had to tell the parents what their kids were learning and essentially reassure them that it was worth the money they were paying. It felt like an entire load of bullshit, and he felt like a half-assed salesman for the school, but it wasn’t like he could have opted out.

Not only did this already suck on its own, but it also meant that he couldn’t go to Matt’s class, since his sessions started right in the middle of his usual yoga class. Not only that, but he couldn’t let Matt into the house when class was over either. Aside from his sessions for each class, parents generally wanted to chat with him afterward. He’d be at work until at least 9:00pm.

He sat at his desk and typed out a text to Matt. ‘Hey, forgot I have open house tonight. I’ll drop you a key on my lunch break.’

‘Does that mean ur not coming to class? :(‘

‘Yeah :( Starts at 7. It'll probably last a while. Can I catch you some time between 12:30 and 1:30?’ 

‘1:15? After my noon class. I’ll be nice and sweaty for you ;)’

Mark shook his head and smirked at his phone. 'Perfect. 1:15 is good.'

“So when’s the wedding?” A way-too-energetic voice sounded above Mark.

Mark rolled his eyes and sat back. It was always too early for this. It was almost a routine. Mark would be sitting peacefully at his desk in the morning, reading or preparing his notes, when every other day, Brandon and/or Katie would walk straight through the door, pull up chairs in front of Mark, and ask if he had asked out Matt yet. Or, more accurately, if he had asked out his ‘future husband' yet. They were both there to bombard him that day.

"I'm not gonna gossip about my nonexistent love life with you guys," Mark sighed. He had Travis for that, apparently. 

"I'm just looking out for your best interests!" Brandon feigned innocence.

"And really, our best interests.” Katie pointed out. "If our teacher isn't happy, then he can't give the best education, right?” They both nodded enthusiastically.

Mark squinted. "You think your education's suffering because I'm single?"

"Oh no, I think you're a great teacher, but you could be _even better_ if you were happy in all aspects of your life." She grinned in a way that showed such a youthful level of playfulness that it made Mark a little sad that he wasn't capable of being that silly anymore.

"Okay, A, way to be a kiss-ass. B, What are you gonna major in, psychology? Jesus." He knew he was being grumpier than necessary, but it did hit a nerve because he knew it was true. He was able to play it off as part of his dry humor though.

“I’m just saying—“ She cut herself off as a notification lit up Mark’s phone. 

Matt’s reply, ‘See you soon xo ✨❤’ sat pretty obviously on his screen.

“Oh shit, what was that about?” Brandon’s face lit up.

“Nothing,” Mark replied, flipping his phone over. They had no doubt already read it. He wasn’t sure if they would understand that Matt was just always like that and it probably didn’t mean anything. “I have to give him a key because I’m doing the conferences tonight.” The kid raised his eyebrows. "He lives far away and he stays over when he has early classes. It's just convenient."

“You’re doing this all backwards, you know that, right? You’re supposed to date him first and _then_ give him a key.” Brandon looked like he wasn't sure whether Mark actually knew this or not.

It wasn’t lost on Mark. “Life is a lot weirder and more complicated than the movies make it seem, buddy.”

“Cute emojis though, huh?” Katie taunted.

"That's just... he's just like that." Mark shrugged. He felt his shoulders creeping toward his ears defensively.

He flustered his way through the rest of the conversation, as always, and eagerly awaited his lunch break. 

The first half of his day went by entirely too slowly, but when it was finally time to head to Matt’s studio, he bolted as soon as he knew Matt’s class was over.

Mark walked into the building and peeked in the doorway to Matt’s studio. Matt was there alone, sitting against the wall with his eyes closed. Probably not meditating, just relaxing. His face was shining a little with sweat.

Matt cracked an eye open and his face lit up. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Mark slipped his hands in his pockets.

“Just like looking at you,” Matt grinned as he stood up. “You got something for me, handsome?”

Mark ran his finger over the rough metal of the key in his pocket before pulling it out and holding it up.

“Just remind me to give it back tonight," Matt requested as he stepped forward and plucked the key from Mark’s hand. “I know I’m gonna forget."

“Keep it. I've got another.” He could put his other spare on his own key ring when he got home.

Matt looked up from the key. “Alright, but I should really be paying you."

“No way. Your company is more than good enough. I don’t need anything else.” 

Mark internally rolled his eyes at himself. Somehow he managed to make it sound even sappier than he meant it.

Matt glanced down again, and Mark watched the color rise on his cheeks. It made him wonder if this was what he looked like when Matt talked to him. It dawned on him that this might have been the equivalent. It wasn’t sexual innuendo or suggestive comments that made Matt blush. Of course not, he was the master of those. Innocent reassurance that Mark wanted him around, small compliments, and clear displays of appreciation— that’s what took his words away. 

He continued to smile at the floor as he told Mark shyly, “That’s a really nice way to deny payment." 

When he peered up, Mark was caught off guard by the fluttering in his chest. He should have been used to it, but it never really got easier to feel like he might be electrocuted by his own nerves at any second. Like if he made one wrong move he’d completely explode. 

"So how's this open house thing work? You don't know when you're gonna get home?"

"I just have to give four 20-minute presentations with 15 minutes in between, then a lot of parents stay afterward to ask more questions or talk about their kid. It can go on for a really long time," Mark answered.

"Sounds like fun," Matt raised an eyebrow in sarcastic emphasis. "Maybe you'll meet an unexpectedly hot dad there."  

Mark was more unsettled with the comment than he'd like. It was offhand, totally normal, but it drilled a tiny hole in his stomach. He knew it was nothing, but part of his mind insisted that it meant Travis was wrong. Maybe Matt wasn't interested in him and he was encouraging Mark to get out there and find someone that wasn't him.

"Maybe," he faked agreement, forcing a small chuckle. "I should get going. Really wish I could make it to class tonight, but I'll see you later." He headed toward the door.

"Thanks for the key. I'll be waiting naked on your bed when you get home." Matt called after him.

Mark just waved goodbye and tried not to hyperventilate with the mental image on the way out. It only made it worse when he remembered what Matt was probably wearing under his yoga pants.

As the day went on, Mark found himself pretty distracted. He couldn't stop reading into the 'hot dad' comment, and he also couldn't stop picturing Matt laid out on his bed. There were a lot of conflicting emotions battling it out in his head.

After his first two open house sessions, Mark was pretty exhausted. He didn't get a lot of time between them, and he still had two more, plus all the parent conversations afterward. He had only stopped at home for a couple hours that day, to eat quickly and lay down for a few minutes before heading back to work. 

Mark stood at the front of his classroom, chatting with his students' parents as he waited for the room to fill up for his third session.

He was telling a girl's parents just how great she had been doing and how thoughtful her essays were, when he saw a man in all black slip through the door. Mark's brain had to take a second to catch up and adjust before he registered who it was.

Matt quickly made his way toward the back of the classroom and sat at the second desk from the left in the back row.

Mark had to concentrate on the conversation he was having, but kept glancing over at Matt, who was curiously looking around the room. He meant to walk over and ask what the hell he was doing there, but every time his conversation with a parent ended, somehow another parent appeared. He was pretty sure Matt was just there to give him shit, but he then started to question whether or not he actually might've had a kid in his class. Probably not, since it didn't seem like he'd be able to afford the ridiculous tuition the school charged, but anything was possible.

Matt was merely gazing at his phone whenever Mark flicked his eyes toward him. Before he knew it, he had to start his session.

He carefully avoided making eye contact with Matt for the first couple of minutes. He was in the middle of explaining how the lessons he planned would help the kids navigate through their college classes, when his eyes gave in to the magnetizing stare from the back of the room. The corners of his mouth upturned automatically, but he tried not to be too obvious about it.

Matt winked. Mark was a fool for thinking that it’d end there. The next 15 minutes were filled with fluttering eyelashes, obscene hand and mouth gestures, and silent kissy faces. 

Mark had never wanted to simultaneously kill and kiss someone so much in his life. He tried his best not to laugh and avoided looking at Matt as much as he could, but it was incredibly difficult.

He got through his speech quickly, answered some questions, and only had one more set of parents taking to him before it was just him and Matt in the room. For the time being anyway. Matt had gotten up and was leaning against a desk in the front row.

"I'm going to fucking murder you, oh my God," Mark snickered. He noticed Matt had changed out of his yoga clothes into dark jeans and a plain black t-shirt. 

Matt got a little closer, into his personal space, and began in a serious voice, "So nice to meet you, Mr. Hoppus. I'm a  _very_ single dad and I'm really blown away by what a good teacher you are. I'm so glad that I can trust this school to have such charming and dedicated teachers. I'd love to show my appreciation some time." He tugged on Mark’s tie a little.

"You're a dick,” Mark gave a small grin and rolled his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, I went to your house, but I got a little lonely,” he pouted. "I figured I'd stop by and harass you while I have the chance to check out your workplace." He turned to walk around the room before staring at Mark with wide eyes. "Shit, actually, is this not cool?"

“Maybe just don't tell anyone you're not a parent." Mark paused. "You're not... actually a parent, are you?"

Matt let out an amused cackle. "No, no. Wouldn't that be something?"

A crowd of parents filed into the room. Matt took his seat in the back as eager parents introduced themselves to Mark. 

He got through his last session easily, breezing through his material as Matt merely watched pleasantly. As he was answering questions, a few more parents wandered in to follow up with him. That was always the most exhausting part. One-on-one unscheduled mini-conferences where he had to try to recall every student’s grades and, in some cases, justify why he gave their kid an 87 instead of 100 percent on an essay.

After another 45 minutes of that, his classroom finally cleared out. Aside from Matt of course, who had been sitting there reading a book.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Mark told him, sitting on his own desk. 

Matt slipped a bookmark into his book and closed it. “Didn’t have anything better to do. Plus, I like seeing you in teacher mode. Very authoritative.”

“Down, boy.” Mark fought against the little flip in his stomach and picked up his bag. “Let’s get out of here,” he declared as he walked to the door.

“Yes, sir,” Matt replied cheekily and stood to follow him. 

They split to their separate cars in the parking lot and Matt followed Mark to his house. 

When they were inside, Matt made them dinner, then insisted on leading Mark through a few poses to stretch him out after working so late. He _did_ miss class, so Mark agreed and they moved the coffee table to set up their mats in the living room.

It was just a short and basic routine— a lot of poses that Mark was already pretty good at. Then Matt positioned them back-to-back again, to sit and breathe together.

“Hold your hands down out to the sides. Palms up.” Matt told him. 

Once Mark followed, Matt placed his hands on top of Mark's and laced their fingers together. Mark wondered if this had any specific purpose.

"Strengthens connection," Matt said, seemingly reading his mind. "A lot of energy flows through the hands."

Mark nodded. They breathed together for a couple quiet minutes, then Matt closed them out with a "Namaste," which Mark still thought was cheesy, but he returned anyway.

Mark turned and laid down on his mat, not quite ready to get up. "I think I'm just gonna sleep here," he announced.

To his surprise, Matt joined him, laying his head on Mark's chest, pressed against his side with an arm around his middle.

Mark instinctively wrapped an arm around him, holding Matt against himself. He was warm, happy, complete. He could have spent the rest of his life just like that.

He felt Matt's head tilt up like he was watching him. “Do you remember the last time we saw each other? Before you came to my class?" Matt's voice rolled through his chest. 

Mark did remember. Or so he thought. “You mean the other time you got me drunk?” He joked, keeping his eyes closed.

“Oh no my friend, I only brought you the first one. You got the rest yourself." Matt poked his chest. "But now I know that you’re a consistently affectionate drunk.”

“Sorry,” Mark huffed bashfully. A word rang in his head. He opened his eyes. “‘Consistently'? what do you mean?”

Matt shifted off of him to lay on his stomach and face Mark. A sly expression slowly stretched across his face. “How much do you remember about that night?”

When he thought about it, really not a whole lot of specifics. People being assholes, Matt distracting him with random conversation, getting a little drunk, and waking up with a post-it note on his forehead that read, 'Drink some fucking water. Enjoy the hangover. - Mike.’ “I remember it being a lot like last Friday," he said.

“A little bit,” Matt tilted his head and paused, like he was thinking about how to say the next words. “Except I'm the one who almost kissed you."

Mark stopped breathing. “What?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember? Interesting.”

"Are you sure that was me? No offense, but four-years-ago Matt doesn’t strike me as a reliable narrator.”

His brows furrowed. “Trust me, it was you.” He shook his head. “Forget it.”

“No no no. I believe you.” Mark sat up. “You can’t just bring up a memory I should have and then drop it.”

Matt followed and sat up in front of him. “You were there looking so damn sad. It was breaking my fucking heart to see such a beautiful person so miserable. So, being the bad influence that I was, I brought you a drink to cheer you up. I guess I haven’t really learned." He sheepishly ran a hand through his hair. "Apparently you also thought this was a great idea though, because you then proceeded to get four more drinks. You ended up pretty fucking slammed and hanging on me like a koala. You had your arms around me for a good amount of time," he laughed. "Then you asked me if I was an angel and told me that I was gorgeous.”

“Oh my god.” Mark hung his head. This was when he barely even knew Matt.

"I was also pretty hammered, as I tended to be, and I cracked the fuck up and did this,” he demonstrated, scooting closer and reaching to place his hands on Mark’s face. “I remember looking into your eyes...” He breathed as he did just that. “So, so fucking lovely, and so fucking sad. You gave me the first genuine smile I had seen on you that night, and I think maybe…” He trailed off, eyes slowly scanning down to Mark's lips, then picked up elsewhere, shifting his tone. “You just kinda seemed like you needed to be kissed.” He shrugged and dropped his hands. 

Mark was suffocated by just how much he wanted Matt. He was envious of four-years-ago Mark for being that fucking close and warranting that kind of attention from him. He wondered what he could do to seem like he needed to be kissed right then, too.

“Then Mike pulled me back by the collar of my shirt, slapped me upside the head, called me a sleaze, and drove you home.” Matt concluded, leaning away just slightly.

Mark was stunned. He remembered Travis dragging him out to socialize a little while after his meltdown, and having a drunk conversation with Matt, but after that— nothing came to mind. That did explain the post-it note. He hadn’t known Matt to lie to him, so he had to believe it was true.

“I had no idea,” he acknowledged. “Kind of wish I remembered that.” He met Matt’s eyes briefly before glancing away.

“Me too,” Matt confessed as he rolled back to lie on the floor. His fingers lightly flitted over Mark’s hand, which rested beside him. When Mark looked at him, he either didn’t notice or he was pretending not to. “So did you meet any hot dads?”

Mark smirked, pushing aside his previous worries. “Just one.”

Matt looked up in surprise.

“He sat through a couple of my sessions.” His smile widened as he struggled to stay serious. “Even though I’m pretty sure he didn’t have a kid there. Kind of mysterious vibe, all in black, pretty eyes, you know.”

Matt squinted as his understanding grew. “Shut up,” he replied, settling his hand beside Mark’s, brushing it just slightly. He was quiet for a few seconds. 

When he opened his mouth, Mark expected him to say that he was going to bed, but he was thrown off by what came out instead. “Have you thought about dating again?"

Mark let out a breath in what he pretended was deep thought, but was actually just him trying not to let his heart fly out of his chest. His mind immediately jumped to trying to figure out why exactly Matt was asking this question. Was he just curious, or was he _interested_? Then he realized that he actually had to answer the question, and that was a whole other beast to tackle entirely. He had definitely thought about it. Specifically thought about it involving the man lying right there in front of him.

“I mean I’ve… thought about it.” He stumbled through the words as the bubbling anxiety in his chest made it difficult to speak.

“Yeah?” Was all Matt gave him in reply. Just a prompt to continue, his eyes burning holes through Mark.

Mark's mouth was suddenly dry. “A little bit. I um, I’m still trying to figure it out.”

“Like, figure out if you’re ready?”

“Yeah. I’m… not sure if I am, just yet," he admitted, and then immediately regretted it. Once he actually said it, he wanted to shove it back into his mouth. He never intended to tell that to Matt. The sinking in his gut slammed downward so quickly that he could feel his chances at happiness completely disintegrating. He’d dug his own grave. Now this meant that if Matt was interested, Mark would be asking him to wait, and then he’d realize what Mark already knew: that he wasn’t worth the wait. He had to say something, anything, that might lighten that blow and bring back some hope to the situation. “I don’t know, maybe soon though,” he tried. It felt like a futile effort. 

Matt just nodded. “I’ve been there.” His tone was casual, but he was avoiding meeting Mark’s eyes again. This made it hard to determine how he felt about it. “Well, when you’re ready, you won’t have to wait very long.”

The confidence in his statement made Mark wonder if he was volunteering. He didn't have the courage to ask if that was the case though. The conversation rested there, and Mark laid back down on his mat. 

The two of them stared at the ceiling for a while before Matt struck up a discussion about one of the books he'd borrowed. 

They stayed up a couple more hours analyzing their favorite scenes from books they had both read. Mark went to bed with his face sore from laughter and his heart a little sore from the fact that he was more in love with Matt than he had previously thought possible.


	15. Chapter 15

As usual, Mark was up early. Unable to get any further sleep, he had resigned, gotten up, gotten dressed, and made coffee. Matt usually beat him to the punch on these mornings, since he had to start his day before Mark convinced himself to get out of his room, but occasionally Mark got off his ass and made a pot for both of them.

He was on his second cup when he saw a line of soft light glowing underneath Matt’s door. He sipped quietly, reading news headlines on his phone and deciding what to have for breakfast as Matt shuffled back and forth between the bathroom and the guest room several times.

“Morning,” a rough, but friendly tone finally called from the hallway entrance. 

Mark peered up from the bagel he'd just put in the toaster to see Matt, dressed for work, all in black, looking spectacular as always. Matt set his bag on the edge of the counter and strolled into the kitchen.

“Coffee’s ready,” Mark nodded to the pot. 

The clock on the coffeemaker read 6:17. Matt was running late. Mark didn’t have to be at work for another hour.

Matt stopped behind him on the way to the pot, placed his hands on Mark's upper arms, and kissed him on the cheek before murmuring, “The perfect man,” in his ear and continuing on to grab his coffee.

“Pretty low standards, dude,” Mark replied, trying to stay casual and pretend he wasn’t doing backflips inside his head. He turned and watched Matt stream coffee into a thermos.

“You saved my ass. I'm so late. I was gonna grab a cup at the café if I had time before class, but now I can save five minutes and $1.50.” He smiled at Mark, then knitted his brow a little. “You’re out early again today,” he observed.

Mark shrugged. It wasn’t uncommon. “No point in staying in bed since 4am. I figured since we're both up, I might as well make a pot for the house.”

Matt gave him a sympathetic frown. “I really appreciate it, but I’d much rather you get good sleep than make me coffee. I’m sure you wish the same.” 

Mark made a noncommittal noise. He was past the point of complaining about it— it was just his reality.

“You know, maybe this won’t work for you...” Matt started, then paused. 

Mark sipped from his mug, bracing himself for another piece of sleeping advice that wouldn’t work. 

“…but I know I always get the best sleep after I get fucked. Sometimes you just need a really good pounding to tire you out.”

If Mark were a more dramatic person, he would have done a spit-take. It was too early for his brain to process that thought. Still, that didn’t stop the picture of Matt laid out naked from popping up in his mind again. He swallowed his coffee and tried to act like this was a normal conversation to be having.

Matt’s face was confusingly sly. He merely sipped and kept his eyes on Mark, searching for a reaction.

Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Uh,” he finally said, after what felt like a full minute. “That’s definitely a strategy. Not exactly one that I have available, but I’ll keep that in mind,” he huffed a laugh.

"Well...” Matt’s voice lifted a little, a sure sign of trouble. He placed his thermos on the counter, turning his back to it. He crossed his arms and tilted his head. "I’m always here to help.”

“What?” Mark was completely thrown.

Matt raised his eyebrows. He walked toward Mark and reached to straighten his collar. “You know when I’m here. If you ever  _need_ anything, I’m right down the hall.” He pinned him with a long look. After smoothing his hand over Mark’s tie — and his chest — he backed away to grab his coffee and walk toward the door, picking up his bag on the way. 

Mark was reeling. There was no way he meant what Mark thought he meant. Absolutely not. It was way too outright, even for Matt.

“Offer’s always on the table.” Matt smiled, then added with a mischievous sparkle, “Or the couch, kitchen counter, shower, bed, against the wall, wherever you want.” A fairly clear indication of what he was saying. Mark wondered if maybe he had entered another reality.

The expression on Matt's face was open for interpretation. It was similar to the one he had when he suggested that he was psychic. This time though, it almost read as ‘I’m kidding, unless you’re down,’ or maybe simply, ‘I’m down if you are.'

Mark just stared, trying to figure out what to say and whether or not he was serious. He startled at the quick _thwack_ of the toaster springs popping up.

Matt smiled sweetly, almost innocently. “Just think about it. Have a nice day, Mr. Hoppus.”

Then Matt left. The fucker just left. He quite possibly straight up told Mark he’d fuck him if he wanted it, and then he just slipped out the door to go to work. 

Mark stood there stunned. He couldn’t believe it. He had to sit down and process what had been said.

If Matt was serious, it was a tempting offer. Sure, it would have been nice to relieve some of the sexual tension, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep it separate. Mark was never one to partake in casual sex— there were always feelings involved whether or not he intended it. It would just lead to him being miserable and wanting Matt even more. Being able to be that close to him, but not being able to have an emotional relationship with him would certainly take a toll on him, with the potential to become devastating. If that was all Matt wanted from him, if this was the only place all Matt's flirting had been heading and he wasn't interested in anything more than just friendship and sex with Mark, it'd crush him to hope for something emotional and fail at it.

It didn’t matter though. Matt was probably joking. It was just so casual that it had to be a joke.

____________________________________________

Over the next few days, Mark started to wonder if the conversation had even happened. Neither of them mentioned it. Matt didn't make any reference to it or follow up with it, so maybe it really was just one of his jokes. Mark decided to brush it off and try not to think about it. There was no reason to stress over a decision that he didn't even realistically have to make.

When Saturday rolled around, Mark met Matt and Travis at their collective favorite Indian restaurant.

"Before anyone tries to fight me for the check, I got it," Mark declared as he skimmed over the menu. "Don't limit yourselves on my account though.”

Travis let out a sigh. "Dude, no way."

“Nope, don’t argue," Mark answered. “It's the least I can do for both of you.”

He had sort of a back-and-forth with Travis about paying for meals. When he was out of a job, Travis covered him more times than he could count, even when he didn't need it. Plus, the dude was always cooking for him and getting him groceries anyway. Mark was determined to always show his gratitude and pay him back in some way.

Travis sighed again, seeming legitimately pained that Mark wasn't allowing him to spend money. He shook his head and returned his gaze to the menu.

“You do way too much for me already,” Matt added to the protest, then gave in quickly. “But if you insist, I’ll blow you later to make it up to you,” he grinned and batted his eyelashes.

Mark just gave him an amused chuckle and told him, “I’m not your sugar daddy, Skiba.”

“That can always change,” Matt winked. 

Mark just shook his head and managed a straight face as he told him, “I’m not rich enough to give you the lavish lifestyle you deserve."

Matt patted his leg. “I don’t need a whole lot, baby. I’ll take what you can give me,” he smirked. 

He then glanced around the room for a second. “Oh hey!” He exclaimed, his face bright. Sliding out of the booth, he clarified, “Be right back, I just spotted some old buddies. I’ll have water if the server comes around before I get back.”

He took long strides across the restaurant to greet two burly men and a blonde woman with one beautifully colored full sleeve of tattoos. Mark watched him give them all short hugs.

“Bro, what the fuck was that?” Travis asked. “Just…” he waved his hand around toward Mark, “all of that. Are you guys fucking? Without telling me?”

“You want me to call you mid-fuck, or like, right before? Just give me a timeframe and I’ll be sure to give you a play-by-play.” Mark quipped. “We aren’t. He’s just kidding.”

“It… didn’t sound like it.” Travis regarded him warily.

“You know Matt, he’s always joking around like that,” Mark shrugged. He was mostly used to it. It still made him a little crazy whenever Matt talked to him like that, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary. 

“I’ve never heard him say anything like that. To anyone. I know he has kind of a risqué sense of humor but that’s…" He made a skeeved-out face, “direct."

Mark thought it was odd that Travis hadn’t witnessed that from Matt before. He had known him a lot longer. Matt had certainly upped the explicitness of his humor lately, but considering what he’d said a few days before, Mark didn’t think it was all that strange. “He does that all the time. He pretty much told me he'd have sex with me the other day and I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not at first."

Travis' eyes widened and he blinked a few times. “I’m gonna need you to explain that one."

“We were talking about my shitty sleep patterns and he basically said he was there to help if I wanted to get fucked. To get better sleep. Then he listed every place in my house we could do it. I’m pretty sure he was kidding though.”

“Mark,” Travis said slowly, then rubbed his hands over his face. “That doesn’t sound like a joke. That sounds like someone who’s telling you he’s willing to be number one on your booty call speed dial.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mark scoffed. All he really knew was that he never wanted to hear the phrase, ‘booty call speed dial’ from Travis’ mouth ever again. “He hasn’t brought it up since then, so I figured he wasn’t serious.”

Travis was clearly frustrated. He whisper-yelled, “He’s leaving it to you!” and peeked over to where Matt was still chatting with his friends. "Why would he bring it up again? It’s on you now.”

Mark just gave him a skeptical look. How could Travis be so sure?

“I really don't think he's kidding,” Travis continued. "He looks at you like he’s ready to throw down at any moment. I can’t believe you don’t see that. God, today alone he’s looked like he wants to sit on your lap like, five times.”

Sure, Matt tended to give him bedroom eyes, but he'd always looked at him that way. Mark figured that was just how his face was. "Really?"

Watching him now, talking to his other friends, he just appeared jovial and light, not quite as intense as the piercing stares Mark was typically on the receiving end of. Interesting.

When he looked back at his friend across the table, Travis just nodded, a silent ‘duh!’ sitting upon his raised eyebrows.

“I guess. I mean, I kind of thought about it, but I just pushed it aside since I didn’t think it was an actual proposition. Do you think I should like,” Mark gestured confusedly, unable to use real words, “go… for it? Like, what he said?"

“Well, you're not exactly a casual sex, friends-with-benefits kind of guy." Travis eyed him.

"I know, I know. I mean I'm... not gonna take him up on it. Probably."

Travis gave him a brief, but hard, scolding stare. "I can't tell you who to sleep with at what time, or how to live your life, but I feel like it wouldn't be good. I don't know.” He looked truly conflicted in what to tell Mark. He tapped his fingers on the table before speaking again. “I’m rooting for you guys, but… I don't think a guy you've been harboring some serious feelings for is really the right person for a rebound fuck. Not that I'd encourage you to do that anyway, since it's not really your game, and I don't think you could even do it, but I just think your feelings are really gonna screw with you if that's all he wants. You guys already act like you're dating, so it almost seems like that's the only thing missing, but..." He shook his head. "There are just so many ways you could get hurt by this. You need something dependable that you know isn't going to disappear on you. Something solid, not just physical satisfaction. I don’t think this is the way you want this to go with him."

Travis was right. Maybe that kind of approach would work for some people, but Mark was so ridiculously in love with Matt that he knew it could just end up wrecking him.

He still found it all a little hard to believe though, considering the conversation he and Matt had the night before, when Mark thought he’d sank any chance he had with him by saying he wasn’t ready. He wondered if this would change Travis’ perception of the situation. "I guess you're right. It’s just weird that he’d do this because—" In the corner of his eye, he saw Matt returning. “So how’s work going?” He cut himself off.

Travis looked confused before Mark gave a slight nod in Matt’s direction. “Oh! Good, you know, busy. Starting to experiment with seitan a little more.”

“Cool! What are you making with it?” Matt asked as he slid back into the booth beside Mark. He briefly placed a hand on Mark’s leg as he situated himself.

"Mostly trying out different recipes for bacon substitutes since it's been such a trendy flavor lately. I think I'm getting close to some good stuff." Travis answered.

Mark half-listened as he observed the two, watching Matt's eyes give Travis interest and attention, but never the same hungry drive that made Mark feel transparent. When Matt looked at him, it felt like all time stood still, and that he was peering into Mark’s soul. Or maybe he was just undressing him in his head. Either was possible.

“What do you say Mark, you wanna join a gym with me?” Matt asked him, a grin playing on his lips like he knew Mark would object.

He’d apparently missed more of the conversation than he’d thought. “Not… particularly, but maybe,” Mark answered honestly. “I don’t see why you’d need to work out more than you already do, but whatever you’re into."

And there it was— within a few seconds of talking, Mark watched Matt's attentive eyes make the shift. Widened pupils, rapt glint, a slow drift around Mark's face, pausing at his lips.

It was so obvious, he kicked himself for not seeing it before. It had always felt like, sure, in theory, Matt said all these things and acted this way because _maybe_  it was  _possible_  that he was into Mark like that, but Mark had kind of thought that it was because he _didn’t_ see Mark that way at all. Now that he had put it together though, it was so clear. 

He wasn’t sure what to do with this information, but now he couldn’t _stop_  seeing it, and it was on him to figure out where it would go. He almost wished he could go back to being oblivious. What exactly was the time frame on this offer? Was it only about sex, or did Matt want the same things Mark wanted? If so, what would happen if Mark took him up on it? Could it turn into the kind of relationship he needed? Their friendship was already so close to what he wanted with Matt that he didn’t know if this would essentially just seal it, or if the way they interacted would change or become weird. He definitely didn’t want that.

Suddenly, it felt like he could only be passive about this for a limited amount of time. He could no longer sit and wait for something to happen, whether it be within his own feelings or Matt making a move. Matt already made his move. It was time for Mark to decide whether or not to make his.


	16. Chapter 16

Mark pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, sighing at the total bullshit essay one of his students had written. It astounded him that some kids _still_ tried to get away with not reading the book, and just going on discussion context clues. It was always blatantly obvious. The kid hadn’t even bothered to look up notes on the Internet either.

As he sat at the dining room table, dim lamp giving him just the right amount of light, he listened to the soft sounds of Matt scratching lines onto his sketchbook. He glanced at the man across from him and couldn’t help the small smile that plagued his face every time he saw him.

Matt glanced up. “What’s up?”

“Huh? Nothing.” Mark quickly returned his gaze to the terrible essay in front of him.

He read a few lines, then noticed the silence. He didn't hear Matt's pencil scratching. Sensing that Matt was still looking at him, he kept his head down and pretended not to notice.

“Can I draw on you?” Matt finally asked.

“Hm?” Mark questioned, even though he had heard pretty clearly.

“Like, just doodle some stuff on your arms?”

Mark raised an eyebrow and peered at Matt over his glasses, “As long as it washes off, sure.”

Matt happily got up from the table, then came back shortly with several permanent markers.

“Those gonna wash off?”

“Comes right off with rubbing alcohol,” he said as he sat next to Mark.

“I guess I can always wear long sleeves...” Mark conceded, unconvinced. He turned his eyes back to the essay he was reading and slid his left arm closer to Matt. “Just don’t draw any dicks on me."

“It’ll come off,” Matt reassured, “and I’m gonna draw a dick on you now, just because I can’t believe you thought you had to tell me not to.” He pulled Mark’s outstretched arm toward himself and swept his fingers across Mark’s forearm.

Mark wasn’t going to admit that it tickled. “Self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Matt grinned and rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. I'll keep it work-appropriate." He uncapped a black marker and went to work.

The cool nib dragged wet over the sensitive skin of Mark's inner wrist. He distractedly read over the same sentence three times as soft curving lines crept up his arm. For the first minute, he thought he wouldn’t be able to handle much more of it— Matt’s fingers trailing a delicate touch, guiding the marker in feather-light lines of patterns that made Mark’s breath catch a few times. As it continued though, Matt increased the pressure as his lines became more determined, and eventually it became soothing and peaceful. Mark was able to concentrate on the essays again.

He got through three and a half papers, one-handed, when Matt smoothed his hand over Mark’s arm and asked, “Alright, what do you think of your new tattoos?”

Mark had been trying not to peek, so he was startled to see the inner part of his arm nearly covered in ink. It was gorgeous, though. A pink octopus covered half his forearm, sprawling and powerful. It was the centerpiece, surrounded by various complicated patterns that seemed to form themselves naturally. A few flowers— roses, and leaves tangled amongst the patterns. Right above the octopus, like a crown, was the same simple lotus flower Matt had. It sat above the dip of his elbow, surrounded by purple dots and asterisks.

“Wow,” he said, sincerely. “This is beautiful. Honestly. I can’t believe you did all this in that amount of time.”

Matt shrugged, but couldn’t hide his proud grin. “Just some mindless doodling.”

“I kind of don’t want to wash this off,” Mark commented, still admiring the simple detail on the octopus before the flower drew his eyes again. Matt's cheesy declaration that Mark just hadn't bloomed yet echoed in his mind. He felt more and more like he might be getting there.

"I know a good tattoo artist," Matt joked.

"Clearly," Mark raised an eyebrow. "Seriously though, you should take pictures of this, I don't want it to go to waste when I have to take it off."

Matt agreed and snapped a few photos with his phone. "Thanks for being my human sketchbook," he said, leaning against Mark.

"Anytime, dude."

Matt continued staring at him.

"What, you want to go for my other arm?"

He smirked. "No, you just look so handsome in those glasses."

Mark's heart skipped a beat. He had almost forgotten that Matt was actually, seriously into him. "That means a lot, coming from you," he managed to say through a smile, ignoring the way his heart raced at the fact that he dared flirt back.

Matt bit his lip and gave a small chuckle. "I'm gonna go wind down and read a little bit." He skimmed his hand down Mark's thigh, so casually that it barely seemed out of the ordinary at all. It sent electricity all through the left side of Mark’s body. "I'll be here if you want any more tattoos."

Mark couldn't believe Matt could drive him up the wall in a way that seemed so effortless. He watched Matt get up and walk to his room, and sighed at himself for fawning over the way the guy _walked_. It didn’t really help that Matt seemed to have an aversion to wearing anything more than underwear when he was in the house, and that his thighs and ass looked fucking incredible in boxer-briefs.

It had been a few days since Mark realized that his fate with Matt was in his own hands. He still hadn’t decided what to do, but he was trying to give himself some time to process it. There hadn't been a day that felt right to do anything just yet. He wasn't sure if he should outright just tell Matt how he felt, or pursue Matt's proposition.

In that moment though, he did what he'd been doing for the past few days, and shoved it aside. He'd deal with that later.

He graded a few more papers, wiped the ink off his arm (which took a whole lot longer than he thought and still didn't come off completely), then turned in for the night, settling in bed to read for a while.

After about twenty minutes of reading, Mark tapped his fingers on the back cover of his book. He couldn't keep focus on it, despite it being an interesting read. He couldn't pinpoint why, but his nerves felt like they held the hum of a fluorescent light bulb, a charged energy that seemed unstable. It was uncomfortable and unsettling, like he had to do something, but didn't know what. Sleep was definitely out of the question.

This unreasonable anxiety was fairly familiar to him. He tried to distract himself by turning his attention back to the book.

He read the same page twice, then tossed the book aside on his bed. Rubbing his hands over his face, he let out a heavy sigh. Pointless, restless anxiety continued to hiss through his veins. His pills might help— they'd quash the feeling a bit and might help knock him out, maybe.

But there was also something else. Right down the hall.

Mark's head dropped back heavily on his pillow. No. It was still just as bad an idea as it was when Matt first suggested it.

...Was it though?

It could be just what he needed. Maybe it'd ease his feelings, break some of the tension. It had the potential to turn into something else. Hell, Travis said they already acted like a couple. If they put these pieces together, what else was stopping them? They could easily slip from very-close-friends-with-benefits to a romantic relationship. Maybe Mark needed something that he didn't have to dive into with his whole heart at first. It could be good to start off casual like that.

It had also been a _very_ long time since he'd had sex. The option was open to him. Matt was right there, and he wanted to. All it would take was a quick confirmation that both of them wanted it, and they’d be good to go. Would it _really_ cause him that much emotional turmoil? Maybe he’d overthought it before. It wouldn’t be such a big deal.

The thought of fooling around with Matt didn’t exactly help dissuade him. Being close to him, tumbling over and under bedsheets with him, kissing him— god, _kissing_ him. He’d settle for just that. But that wasn’t what he was offered.

He wondered what sex with Matt would be like. Sensual and slow, choreographed and artistically beautiful? Or dirty, sweaty, rough, and hard? Mark had a feeling he was good at both. He really wanted to know what kind of mood Matt would be in that night, if he were up to it.

He wasn't sure how he would even approach it. ‘Hey, remember when you said you would have sex with me? Would you still wanna do that?’

The more he thought about it, the less absurd it sounded. That’d be pretty much how it should go.

Or he could just jerk off. That'd be the easy solution. It’d give him similar results in terms of calming down, without the consequences. Maybe he needed to push himself to have those consequences, though. He had to do something about this thing with Matt eventually.

His phone rang, and without checking it, he knew it was Travis. He’d assigned him a different generic ringtone than his default one. He wasn’t in the right mindset to talk. He let it ring— he’d call him back later.

Maybe the call was a sign. For fuck’s sake, even Travis knew it would end in disaster. Somehow the guy knew he was thinking about doing this and called him to tell him that he was an idiot. The universe was telling him not to do this.

But his blood continued to fizz, his chest was full of rushing wind, he kept imagining what different parts of Matt’s body would feel like against his mouth, and he thought, _Fuck the universe._

Misery be damned. He could do this. He could be casual. He'd just see how it went. If that was what their relationship became, then so be it. He'd deal with the consequences. It was time for him to be bold.

He sighed, got up, and regarded himself in the mirror. The soft gray t-shirt and navy blue boxers he was wearing would be fine. He looked pretty good in them if he said so himself, and it didn't make sense to get changed.

_Alright, go for it._

With his hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath, nodded to himself, and opened the door.

Matt's door was half-open, which Mark took as a signal that he wasn't too busy or trying to sleep. He took a second to pause, just to be sure, and then he walked to Matt’s door and knocked on the doorframe, alerting Matt of his presence.

“Hey." Matt raised his eyes from the book he was reading and gave Mark his full attention. "What's up?"

He was so sweet and lovely that it made Mark have second thoughts about bringing this up. Matt was just minding his own business, reading and relaxing, being adorable. He couldn’t bring himself to just casually ask him if he wanted to fuck.

It was a mistake. What the hell was he doing? _Fuck fuck fuck._ He thought he’d gotten past the doubt, but there it was, slapping him in the face way too late.

“Uh, actually, you know what? I was going to um... ask your thoughts on something boring, but I just figured it out so… never mind. Sorry to bother you, I’m gonna… goodnight." He stumbled through the words and turned to walk the short distance back to his own room.

“It's okay, you can…” He heard Matt start, a muffled sound from his room. “Oh. _Oh_ , wait, Mark,” he called. The vinyl of the air mattress groaned against the wall with his movement, and a second later, a hand landed on his shoulder.

Mark knew he was caught. He turned around in his doorway, and Matt gave him a smile. That ridiculously god damned hot smile, paired with bedroom eyes that made Mark realize he was completely… well… fucked. The doubt ebbed away again.

“Maybe I can offer another perspective,” Matt said low, and shifted closer. His eyes were wild, staring Mark down with intensity. “You sure you don’t need help with anything?"

“I… I mean. I thought I got it, but… maybe,” Mark found himself saying. He lost all control of his words. Matt was inches away from him and he felt like the force of his own heartbeat had to have been visible from space. He swore he could hear his own pulse.

“Okay, what do you need?”

Mark couldn’t tear his eyes away from Matt’s mouth. That full bottom lip, the defined dip of his cupid’s bow, his mouth shaping around the words. He’d never considered the physical act of speaking to be this captivating before.

His mind raced for an excuse, an out that he could take if this wasn’t for real. It was too late though. Seconds passed as he continued to stare, his chest flooding with fear and want. The longer he waited, the more vulnerable he became.

_Now or never. You’ve shown your cards. You're too close now. Just go for it._

“I’m uh, I’m just trying to make a decision,” He managed to meet Matt’s eyes, then dragged a purposeful glance down to his lips and back up, bravely showing him what he meant.

“Oh yeah?” Matt's voice was deep and quiet. It was almost a dare. He inched closer, his hand coming to rest gently on Mark’s waist. They were nearly chest-to-chest.

Mark responded with a hand placed carefully on the side of Matt’s jaw. He took two seconds, two short seconds to acknowledge his doubt. Maybe, maybe, _maybe_ he was wrong, maybe he’d read everything wrong. Maybe Travis read it wrong too. Maybe Matt didn’t mean this, with his hand on Mark, his face so close, his mouth waiting. Maybe he did.

Matt’s lips parted as he brushed his nose lightly against Mark’s, further shrinking the distance between them and inviting Mark to take the next step. Heat radiated between them, the air constricting and drawing them together. Mark almost didn’t want to move, like somehow it could all dissipate in a second if he shifted half an inch.

"Yeah," Mark nodded just slightly, speaking almost in a whisper. “I think I figured it out." He pet his thumb over Matt's jaw and tilted forward, closing the gap as his lips met Matt’s with soft warmth and equal pressure. Mark shivered, actually fucking shivered, vibrating with the thrill, and everything else in the world fell away. He immediately melted into the feeling and received a quiet, relieved sigh against his skin. His stomach, his chest, his whole entire being became heavy and light at the same time. It was everything he'd imagined and more. All the clichés— fireworks, butterflies, sparks— combined into an overwhelming flame inside of him.

His mouth opened just slightly, following Matt and deepening the kiss. Adrenaline raced through him with the heat of Matt’s mouth. He roamed his hands through the other man's hair and pulled him closer. This was all he ever needed. He didn’t want to be anywhere else for the rest of his life.

Matt made a small, satisfied noise that gave Mark chills throughout his upper body. His arms looped around Mark’s waist, ensuring there was no space between them. His lips pressed against Mark's with increasing insistence like he thought this might be the only chance he'd get. That wouldn't be the case if Mark had anything to do with it.

Neither of them wanted to separate, but Mark's lips began to stretch into a smile with the joy radiating through his core.

Matt pulled back just far enough to look at him, and Mark's heart took another springing leap. His eyes were sparkling, his cheeks pink. "Are you—" he swallowed, "Are you sure?"

It only took half a second for Mark to check in with himself this time. Now more than ever, he was sure he wanted this. His true purpose in life was kissing Matt, doing anything with Matt. He nodded. “Yes. Absolutely. I’m really, _really_ sure.”

Matt caught his lips again, this time less chaste, a little rough and filled with excitement. Light, teasing bites landed on Mark's bottom lip. He chased Matt's lips like his were magnetically drawn to them.

Mark kept himself pressed tight against Matt, reveling in the subtle, rolling pushes of their hips against each other. The extremely thin amount of material between them gave them both away. He let out a short groan at the feeling of Matt getting hard against him and along with him. He knew he'd made the right decision. The long-overdue makeout session was phenomenal in itself, but his body begged for more. He took a step backward, and that was enough for Matt to take the lead, walking Mark slowly back toward his own bed.

Then Mark's phone rang again.

Travis, again.

Lust turned to panic as he wondered why Travis would call him twice in less than an hour. It had to be for a good reason.

He managed to reluctantly detach from Matt's mouth to say, "Fuck, I have to get that,"

"Let it fucking ring, Mark," Matt nearly growled, breathless.

Mark's brain fought with itself. Matt was so _so_ hot and he wanted to pin him down on the bed, let him know he couldn't tell Mark what to do, but he also really had to get that call.

“I really have to get it."

“You don’t,” Matt trailed kisses over his face.

“No I… Travis called me earlier and I ignored it. That’s him again. He wouldn’t try so soon if it wasn’t important.”

“Shit, yeah." Matt sighed and backed off, seemingly regaining some clarity. "Alright, I can’t ask you to be a bad friend just because I wanna bone you, so…”

“Okay, um, hold that thought please,” Mark said, mentally telling his own dick to calm the hell down. He caught Matt’s hand and gave it a small squeeze before letting him go and rushing to pick up the phone before it stopped ringing.

“Hey, sorry I missed you earlier. Everything okay?”

“Hey, um,” Travis answered, a little frantic. It sounded like he was in a car. "I don’t know. I mean, well, yeah I think so. The lil guy was at a friend’s house and they were biking where they shouldn’t have been and they crashed down a fucking hill. The kid’s parents called me and said they were taking the boys to the hospital and it sounds like they’re okay, like they’re alive so that’s good, but I’m just kind of fucking freaking out. I’m on the way there now and I’m just so fucking… man I feel like I have to be a stricter parent, what the hell am I doing? I gotta— ”

“Travis, Travis. It’s not your fault," Mark said. “Which hospital?"

“The one over on Jacobsen Ave. Are you busy? I don’t think it’s that bad, like he might’ve broken his arm, that’s it, but I just… Can you meet me there? If you’re busy it’s fine, though. It's not a big deal I'll just be waiting I just, you know, if you have time,” Travis rambled in a distressed stream that Mark related to all too well. He could imagine how his friend was feeling, and he knew he needed some company.

Mark glanced at Matt, who sat on Mark’s bed, worried expression on his face. “I’ll meet you there. I’m heading out now. See you soon.”

“Thanks, man. Bye.”

Mark headed to his dresser to find some jeans to throw on. “His son had some kind of bike accident,” he told Matt. "I’m gonna head over to the hospital and keep Travis company since he’s driving himself crazy.”

Matt’s brows raised in concern. “Fuck, how's the kid? Is he okay?”

“Seems like he’s alright, but he doesn’t know for sure yet.” He hopped as he pulled his jeans over his hips, quickly fastening them before standing close in front of Matt. He took a breath, trying to figure out what to say. He wanted to apologize, but it didn’t seem right. He wanted to just fucking confess his love, but it definitely wasn’t the time.

“I’ll be here.” Matt looked up at him and placed his hands on either side of Mark’s waist. “Don’t beat yourself up about not answering earlier. You’re a good friend."

He always knew just what Mark needed to hear. Mark reached out to pet his hair. “Thank you. I’ll keep you updated."

They both gave each other small, somewhat timid smiles, like they weren’t about to rip each other’s clothes off two minutes prior.

"Mark, go."

"Shit, right." Mark bolted out the door and drove to the hospital, trying to shove aside the constant stream of _holy shit, I kissed him. Holy shit, we almost had sex. Holy shit holy shit holy shit!_ as he concentrated on the road and tried to segue his mind into Supportive Friend Mode.


	17. Chapter 17

After speedwalking through the hospital, trying to decipher the directions Travis had texted him to get to where he was, Mark finally arrived at the right waiting room.

He saw Travis sitting in one of the rows of chairs facing away from him. He was staring at his phone and anxiously jiggling his leg up and down.

“Hey man,” Mark greeted to draw his attention as he approached.

“Hey,” Travis stood, “thanks so much for heading over. I’m sorry. You really didn’t have to. I was freaked out, I guess."

Mark pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay, dude. I can’t even count the amount of times you’ve been there for me and my freakouts.” He pulled away. “How is he?”

Travis breathed a relieved sigh. “He’s okay, thank god. He broke his arm and he’s really scraped up, like, a shit ton of blood that I never want to see on my kid, but he’ll be alright. Doc told me it looks way worse than it is.”

“Shit, I’m glad he’s okay,” Mark said. "I’m surprised you’re not back there with him, though.”

“He’s getting x-rays done, just to make sure, then he’s getting the cast. I wanted to be back there, but he’s trying to be a tough guy about it and told me he could handle it. Twelve-year-olds think they’re hot shit since they’re almost teenagers or something.” Travis gave the floor a weak smile. “Guess I kind of overreacted. I know it ended up not being much, but thanks for being here, I was just kind of losing my shit a little bit.”

“Of course. You’ve done so much for me, man. I owe you at least this.”

Travis waved him off like it was no big deal. He sat down in the chair he previously occupied. “Sorry if you were busy or sleeping or anything.”

Mark settled in the seat next to him. “It’s alright, you probably saved me from a questionable decision anyway.” He was still going to have to figure out what to do about that when he got home. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to go back from what happened, especially now that he knew what kissing Matt felt like.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His friend asked with a raised eyebrow.

He kind of regretted bringing it up. Travis had his own stuff going on, and he didn’t need to deal with Mark’s problems. “Ah, you know what? Nevermind. This isn’t really the time for my bullshit, you’re already stressed. I don’t need to make everything about me."

“I need a distraction, please tell me about your bullshit.”

“Gossip queen.” Mark rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder against Travis’.

Travis snickered, giving Mark some pride that he lightened the mood.

“Um,” Mark looked up at the ceiling, “you remember what I told you about Matt’s… uh… offer?”

Travis gave him a look. “Dude. Seriously?"

“Yeah, um.” A blush crept up on Mark’s face. “So. I kissed him.” He winced like Travis’ reaction might have been a verbal slap.

Instead, Travis’ eyes widened like they were going to pop out of his head. “Woah. Holy shit. I didn’t think you’d ever have the balls.”

“Thanks,” Mark scoffed.

“Seriously, though. How the hell did that happen?”

“I just… uh,” Mark let out a nervous chuckle. “In a moment of weakness I went over to his room, and by the time I got my mind back, he already knew why I was there. Neither of us really said anything about it, specifically.” He gestured vaguely, a little uncomfortable trying to find the right words to relay the events to Travis. He still wasn’t used to talking to him like this, about this stuff. "We got close, I got bold, and… I kissed him.”

“Just kissed?”

“Well,” Mark’s stomach sank a little, reminding him that he’d ignored Travis’ first call. “It was headed a little further, but then I got your second call.” He started a somewhat-frantic apology, "I’m so sorry I didn’t pick up the first time. I really should have known you wouldn’t call at night if it wasn’t important."

"It's fine, dude. You picked up, you got here, don't worry about it. I’m okay. You didn’t know." Travis patted Mark's elbow. "I can't be mad at you for pursuing your prince charming and getting swept up."

Mark chose not to mention that he had just been lying in bed stressing about approaching Matt when the first call came in. The corner of his mouth tugged upward as he thought of Matt as his 'prince charming,’ though.

"So. How was the kiss?"

He sank down in his chair, sliding on the cracked vinyl. "I've never felt more hopelessly enveloped in one moment before. I thought all of my organs were going to burst with how happy I was. He's the most divine being I've ever had the privilege to be around." He allowed himself to add exaggerated flourish to his answer, then toned it back down. "I'm completely fucked in love with him."

"Does he know that part? Did you talk about anything?” Travis pried.

"I pretty much just left after I got your call, and there weren't a lot of actual words spoken before we got into it,” Mark recalled. The impending night ahead filled him with anxiety. The momentum and motivation to speak his mind before he left the house had dissipated. "I'm not sure how to talk about it. I think I’m going to have to fess up when I get home."

Travis shifted to face him more fully, turning this into Serious Discussion Mode. "Yeah. You gotta do something about this now, man. What's done is done. You can either try to make this friends-with-benefits thing work or you go after what you really want. Seems like a pretty clear choice to me."

"What if that's not what he wants though? If he wanted that, wouldn't he have said that?” It was a thought that kept replaying in Mark’s head.

"What if it _is_ what he wants? I don't know man, maybe he's not sure how you feel about it, especially with all the Tom stuff,” Travis pointed out.

"I mean," Mark sighed, "I did accidentally tell him that I wasn't sure if I was ready to date anyone yet."

Travis gave him a blank stare. "Are you fucking kidding me? You told him that? You straight up said that and you’re wondering why he hasn’t asked you out?"

"I didn't mean to! He caught me off guard and asked me if I had thought about dating and that's what came out of my stupid mouth! Trust me, I didn't want me to say it either.” Mark felt a little defensive. He had known from the moment he said it that he had sabotaged himself.

“Do you still feel that way?” Travis raised his eyebrows.

“Kind of.” Mark looked away, thinking about what kind of a mess Matt would have to be dealing with by dating him.

His friend sighed and took a second, glanced at the ceiling with a look that was half eye-roll and half ‘lord please help me explain to this idiot,’ and said, “I can’t tell you how you feel, but it seems like you’re pretty damn ready. You’ve been fucking pining over him. How do you think this is going to resolve if you don’t do anything? What exactly is the turning point where you’ll be ready? You’re always going to feel some way about Tom. You’re always going to be a little upset and hurt by what happened to you, and you totally have every right to be. That doesn’t mean that you have to deny yourself any happiness at all while you’re still hurt from someone else."

Mark was taken aback by Travis’ blunt lecture. The guy had a point, though. The longer he’d been thinking about Matt’s proposition, the more he could feel just how much he wanted to be with him. _Really_ with him. His biggest doubt about sleeping with Matt was that he wanted more. He wanted everything with Matt, and that was huge for him. It seemed like that was as ready as he'd ever be. With his eyes firmly toward the white tiled floor, he had to accept it. “Okay."

There was still the other problem, and he couldn’t help voicing his anxiety over it. “But I don’t even know if he _wants_ anything more than sex. I could be madly in love with a dude who just wants to be my friend and let off some steam with me, but nothing else."

"Well," Travis tilted his head, “I don’t know everything about his life, but I actually haven’t known him to just… do the no-strings-attached thing. Or if he has, he doesn’t talk about it, which would be weird since he’s not exactly a private person.” He paused in thought, then continued. "Maybe he only offered it this way _because_ of what you said. Maybe he thinks if he puts something more casual on the table, it won't be as much pressure for you to be in another relationship if you don't want to. I’m sure he’d be _okay_ with something casual, he probably just isn’t sure if you want more, so he’ll take what he can get."

Mark was a little stunned. “Oh. That’s… a way to do it."

“Kind of like he's giving you time and saying he'll be there whenever you want him. Maybe not the best strategy, but it did almost work.” Travis shrugged.

“Damn,” Mark exhaled. He hadn't thought about it this way before. "He's a genius. I'm an idiot. I love him."

“So get out of here and go ask him out."

"What? No I can’t—"

"Go confess your love or whatever. He loves that romantic shit. He’d probably cry if you asked him on a date. He’s a giant fucking sweetheart and it seems like he adores you.”

There was no guarantee, but maybe it was worth the risk. “Alright. Fine. I’m blaming you if it doesn’t pan out though.” Mark shook his head and caught his friend resisting a smile. “You’re awfully invested in this."

Travis smirked. “Just want my friends to be happy, is that a crime?”

Mark squinted. It hit him like slap to the back of the head. Of course Travis hadn’t just told him to try yoga out of nowhere. He’d gone to Mark’s house with a plan that day. He hadn’t suggested just any class with any person. He had Matt’s card readily available in his wallet and was dead set on making sure Mark showed up to class. He had sent him into that first class alone for a reason. “Oh my god. Did you fucking set me up? Is that why you dropped me off?"

“I just thought maybe you’d get along,” Travis looked away, still fighting a grin.

“I can’t believe you.” Mark tried to be mad that he’d been fooled.

“Can you blame me? I was right. Look at you two. When’s the last time you went a day without seeing him?” Travis asked.

Mark stammered. “That’s… it’s. Not important,” he huffed. “I was sitting here agonizing over the fact that I’d fallen in love with this guy, and you wanted this to happen all along?”

“I didn’t do anything but drop you off, the rest was you two. All I did was get you in the same room sober for the first time. I knew if I tried to actually straight-forward set you up, you’d run for the hills.”

Mark wanted to argue, but it was true. He never would have built this connection with Matt if it were in the context of a date. Hell, he never would have even met up with Matt in that situation. He barely felt like he was ready to see anyone at the present moment, and he certainly would have balked at the idea back then. It was only because of how his relationship with Matt had progressed that he felt even the slightest bit ready now. He crossed his arms, feeling both indignant and grateful at the same time.

Travis eyed him. “I genuinely care about you, man. This wasn't just for my own amusement. I set you up because I thought you’d be good for each other. I still do. I just want you to be happy, and any way I can help, I want to do that."

Mark was always caught off guard by how understated Travis' acts of care and support were. He’d improved Mark’s life so much just by facilitating this. Spending time with Matt had made him happier than he’d been in a really long time. Sometimes he felt like nothing could bother him when he was around. This was the best unsolicited favor anyone had ever done him. “Fuck. Well, thank you, I guess. What the fuck, man."

"No big deal. You deserve it." Travis patted Mark's knee. "You gotta follow through with it though."

"I know," Mark groaned, running his hand over his face.

"Alright, so get out of here already."

"What? But—"

"I'm fine. We'll be here for a while longer and there's nothing big happening anymore."

"Yeah, but—"

Travis stood. "Thanks for coming here. It was good to get my mind off of stuff. I'm really okay. I'm just waiting for the lil dude to get back out here. Go home and get your man.” He placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder.

His stance was essentially leading Mark out the door. Mark stood to match him. He didn't really want to leave yet, both in support of Travis and because he was terrified to go home and talk to Matt, but Travis was giving him a look that made him believe that if he didn’t start leaving, he would be dragged out to his car.

"Fine. But if you need anything, don't think twice about reaching out to me. I'll answer on the first call this time."

Travis chuckled and pulled Mark in for a quick, two-pats-on-the-back hug. "Okay. Let me know when you get home." He all but pushed Mark out to the hallway. “And let me know how it goes."

"You too," Mark replied. “Tell the kid hi for me."

On the way home, he tried to rehearse what he was going to say to Matt. He knew he wouldn't be able to stick to a script, but he wanted to do this the right way. Or, as well as he could manage.

As he drove up to his house, he saw Matt's light still on. He had almost hoped that Matt would be asleep and that they could talk about it in the morning. He knew he'd be up all night if that were the case, though, so it was probably for the best.

He parked, turned the car off, and slumped back in the seat. There wasn't a way to back out of this while getting what he wanted. Plus, he got himself into this situation in the first place. It wasn't like the two of them could just ignore what happened. Mark didn't want to, either. He had finally gotten to kiss Matt and it effectively changed his life. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel Matt's soft, full lips on his. He almost craved that feeling, hoping there’d be much more of it in his future. There was only one way to guarantee that.

A heavy sigh escaped from deep in his chest. _Now or never_ , he found himself thinking for the second time that night.

He finally got out of his car and made his way up to the door with his heart racing. His key turning in the door somehow sounded louder than usual, like it was echoing and alerting the whole neighborhood that he was home.

As he got in the door and locked it from the inside, Matt appeared within a few seconds.

“Hey! Everything alright? How’s the kid?” He asked, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, almost like he was cold. It was a pose not often seen on him. He was, unsurprisingly, still in the t-shirt and boxer-briefs that he wore before Mark left. The casualness of his clothing didn’t match the uncomfortable air around him.

“He’s fine, thankfully. Travis was just a little understandably shaken. The kid broke his arm and got pretty beat up, but he’s gonna be alright." Mark said as he dropped his keys and wallet on the raised kitchen counter. He couldn’t seem to meet Matt’s eyes. “Travis was freaked because the kid was at a friend's house and he felt guilty about not being there."

“Oh, okay. I’m glad it wasn’t anything too bad. I’m sure he really appreciated you being there.” Matt rocked on his heels a little bit, looking just to the side of Mark.

Mark nodded. “Yeah. Seemed like he calmed down by the time I left.”

“That’s good. He’s a good dad.”

Mark nodded again.

A few seconds of silence passed. He could tell Matt was genuinely concerned about their friend and his son, but he carried a tight and anxious stance that Mark usually only recognized on himself. He opened his mouth and inhaled, waiting for his brain to supply something to say, but he was beat to the punch.

“How was traffic getting there?” Matt asked.

“It was fine, not too bad.” Mark answered, the awkwardness of the small talk not lost on either of them. They dodged each other’s eyes and it was almost painful how uncomfortable the atmosphere was. This was an unusual feeling to have between them. They’d never really had a stunted conversation like this before- it always just flowed.

Matt headed into the kitchen after standing in front of him for a second longer. “You want tea? I boiled some water already.”

“Oh, sure,” Mark followed him to grab a tea bag for himself.

Matt placed two mugs on the counter, then turned around and bumped right into him. Mark caught his elbow.

“Oh! Sorry,” Matt said. “Didn’t hear you follow me.”

“My fault, should’ve signaled,” Mark joked, finally meeting the other man’s eyes.

The awkwardness fell away, easily and gradually replaced with the same excitement he usually felt. Mark wondered why he feared catching Matt's eyes a few seconds before when they did nothing but flood him with happiness now. It was actually a relief to look at him again.

A smile grew on Matt’s lips. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” Mark grinned back, his hand still on Matt's arm.

A moment of quiet set in. They both knew they couldn't avoid the subject.

Mark opened his mouth again and took a long inhale before starting with, “Should we uh, talk about…”

“Um, yeah.” Matt's smile tugged slightly to one side, shy and sly at the same time. “Probably should.” His words were followed by a breathy half-laugh.

Another deep breath coursed through Mark's lungs as he accepted that the task was on him to continue this conversation. He glanced to the side to gather his thoughts.

“So…" he said as he breathed out. He dropped contact with Matt's arm and took a step backward to give him space. "Okay. I’m... I am definitely down with what was happening before I left, but,” he sighed, trying to choose his words. “I can’t just… do that.”

He was about to continue before he saw Matt’s face fall a little bit, nodding like he was ready to accept rejection. It physically hurt to see, especially since that wasn’t the case at all.

“Wait, wait,” he reversed his previous step, returning closer to Matt. “Okay. Hold on. Wow, I’m fucking this up already. Shit, alright. So. I really _really_ like spending time with you and having you around and I really like you. Honestly, I… I never stop thinking about you, and having you around makes me so fucking happy, dude. I just— um. Promise me you’ll hear me out and not bolt toward the door until I’m done? I just need to get this out and then you're free to bolt after that.”

Matt just gave him an amused but nearly timid smile. “I’m not gonna bolt.” His eyes were almost unblinking, the cool blue edged around the wide darkness of his pupils. It made him look a little vulnerable.

“Okay. Okay.” Mark took in a deep breath and let it out, his rapid heartbeat causing it to come out shaky. “I’m… in love with you,” he admitted through a nervous laugh, limply throwing his arms up to his sides in a sort of elongated, helpless shrug. “I can’t just casually have sex with you because I’m just… so totally head over heels. I’m so ridiculously in love with you that sometimes I think about your smile when you’re not around and I can’t even breathe.”

He paused to search Matt’s eyes for fear, panic, disgust, anything. All he saw was a sincere, teary, almost hopeful stare and a wide smile. His heart warmed and he felt safe to continue.

"You make me a better person and for some reason you’re putting up with my sad sorry ass, and I can’t thank you enough for that. I haven’t felt happy in… god, such a long time, but with you… with you I do. I feel okay. I feel like everything’s going to be okay when I’m with you. You're fucking gorgeous and hilarious and compassionate, you’re incredible, and you make me so happy."

Matt bit his lip and took a step closer. "Mark, shit," he said, almost breathless.

Mark tried to derive exact meaning from the statement, but before he could think more about it, Matt's hands were on his face, his mouth on Mark's. The kiss was strong, full of want without being sexual. Mark relaxed against him with the relief that his confession didn't drive Matt away. 

As Matt pulled back, he kept his face close to Mark's.

"I love you. I love you. I fucking love you, dude. You have no idea how much I love you, okay?" He pecked Mark's lips again quickly like he couldn't resist. Mark's heart did a flip. "You're handsome, you're funny, you're sweet and smart and kind and generous, and I've been in love with you for so long. You bring so much warmth and happiness into my life. I could spend weeks straight talking to you and just being around you. I don't only wanna fuck you." He smirked, "I mean I’d like to do that eventually, but I want more than just that. So much more. With you. If you'd be cool with that?"

"I'm. I'm _very_ cool with that, oh my god, of course I am," Mark laughed.

“Good. Good, because I want to treat you like the absolute god that you are and give you everything you deserve.” Matt stared into his eyes with regained confidence, like he knew he was about to say all the right words to sweep Mark off his feet. “I want you to trust me and know that I’ll care about you. I’m here for you no matter what. I want to show you that you can be loved and wanted and cared for because it’s true, and I want to be the one to do that.”

Tears welled up in Mark’s eyes that he tried to will away.

“And I swear, as long as it’s in my control, I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about it. I will always come back to you. I'll always be here for you. I’m not going to leave you. I'm not going to hurt you."

Mark had no chance of holding the tears back. They spilled slowly through his lashes at first, then accelerated down his face before he could even realize it. It had been a while since he’d cried from happiness. He wrapped Matt in an embrace, holding him tight. He never wanted to let go.

Matt kept him snug in his arms like there was nothing else in the universe that mattered as long as he held on to Mark.

The warmth of Matt's body radiated through Mark's core. It was a true, uninhibited comfort he hadn't known in a long time, if ever. Matt's strong and solid form held him up and kept him grounded as his body heat flooded Mark's veins like sunlight on a cold day. They held onto each other until Mark was sure his tears stopped flowing. The exhaustion of his busy night started to creep in, but he wanted to stay with Matt.

"You wanna bring that tea into my room and settle in for the night?" He pulled back just far enough to look at Matt.

“Wow, how forward of you. Already inviting me into your bed?” Matt looked like he could hardly contain his cheeky grin.

"You've already been in my bed," Mark laughed. "I just um..." He paused, knowing what he was about to say was totally sappy. "I want to stay around you for a while."

Matt's eyebrows raised in adoration. "You're so fucking cute, oh my god. Of course. I'll fucking gladly be around you as long as you want me to be."

His hands slid away from the embrace, leading Mark to do the same as they reluctantly unraveled from each other. Matt caught Mark's hand in his, not letting them completely separate, and gently led him toward his own room.


End file.
